


Can beauty come out of ashes

by KusakabeNAyako



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: BAMF Arya Stark, BAMF Daenerys Targaryen, BAMF Jon Snow, Baby dragons - Freeform, Daenerys Targaryen Deserves Better, Daenerys Targaryen Is Not a Mad Queen, Daenerys Targaryen is Lightbringer, Daenerys Targaryen-centric, Daenerys becomes part of the Pack, F/M, Jon Snow is Azor Ahai, Jon Snow is King in the North, Not se 7&8 compliant, Queen Daenerys, Sorcerer Daenerys, This is more fantasy than you think, fuck D&D
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-01-24 19:47:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 24
Words: 98,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21343741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KusakabeNAyako/pseuds/KusakabeNAyako
Summary: Daenerys Targaryen receives a vague vision and a wake up call. She decides that making the people she wants to rule and/or save happy is more important than making them her subjects. She realizes that letting the dragon wake is easy, holding it back and doing the right thing demands more strength and produces a higher reward.After all, there will be a warm day on the Lands of Always Winter before R'Hllor lets one of his champions succumb to the power of the Great Other.Valar Dohaeris.
Relationships: Arya Stark & Daenerys Targaryen, Jon Snow & Daenerys Targaryen, Sansa Stark & Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 272
Kudos: 503





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> -Guys, first of all, English is not my first language, and I'm begging on my knees for anyone who has the energy and time to beta this story.   
-Second of all, this story will contain no bashing and I'll try to dial back the stupid decisions on everybody's end, but since I'm not a genius myself, my characters might fuck up too.   
-Third, I didn't add the Jon/Dany tag because I don't know how this story will end. I have no endgame, this is just for coping and fun.   
-Fourth, this is a Dany centric fic since she is my fave, but that doesn't mean we won't see other characters.  
-Fifth. It's okay if you don't like my story, you can even comment on it about the things you don't like, and I can't demand this, but please be respectful. I would like to learn about new perspectives and rather avoid a screaming match in the comment.  
Thank you ^^

“_Children… little children, burned!”_

_Ashes. She was looking at ashes. Everything was covered in them. The streets, the keep, the soldiers, the people, the whole world. Above her a mighty roar filled the sky, a roar that she would never mistake to any other. People screamed._

_The ashes didn’t scream._

_She looked down upon her own hands and saw ashes._

_“You don’t want to wake the dragon, do you?”_

_“Little children, burned!”_

_Drogon let out another mighty roar, yet only the echo answered his call, then silence. Viserion did not chirped to his brother’s voice, Rhaegal did not try to outdo his older sibling. Silence. And screams. How can there be silence when there are screams? How can it echo, in a soul so hollow, when beneath her feet, a city cried out in agony?_

_“Dragons don’t plant trees.”_

_“Children, burned!”_

_She looked around. She knew this room, from a vision. The same room, with same broken roof, ashes cowering the ground like an ethereal, grey carpet. It felt like a sin, disturbing the natural piece of it all as she closed in on the throne. Sacrilege._

_“Valar dohaeris, Daenerys Stormborn.”_

_“Burned!”_

_“Valar dohaeris.”_

Daenerys woke up with a strangled gasp. The first thing she did was looking at her hands. They were pink and clean. No sign of ashes. Yet, in her heart, a terrible ache spread, as is someone plunged a blade into it. The gentle breeze moved the air in the room and she smelled the salt of the sea. As she touched her cheek, her skin was wet with tears.

“_Valar dohaeris._” She repeated.

All men must serve. She sniffed while trying to dry up her tears, but her eyes remained bottomless fountains and she just couldn’t stop crying. Serve. All men must die. All men must serve. Why is it that people glorified the first phrase, yet willingly forgot about the second?

_“Because dying is easier than serving._”

She cried the whole night. Not a single sound left her lips, though her body was in agony, and her tears knew no end. She laid there, in her room at the highest keep in Dragonstone. Outside three distressed calls answered her anguish, three sons sharing the pain of their mother.

“_Valar dohaeris.”_ The voice repeated in her head, like a feverish loop, over and over again.

The second Daenerys tried to move, to break out of the cycle, her chest pulsated with sharp pain, and another, unknown voice screamed inside her head. “_Little children, burned!”_ Nightmarish pictures assaulted her mind from a life or dream long forgotten. An endless horde of dead man, scrambling towards her. People screaming on the streets while being eaten up by dragon fire. A dying, starving continent, crying out to ears that listened, yet their hands were tied behind their backs. Death. Death in villages, castles, inside great halls and inside beds. Infant clinging to their mothers corpses. A wall reaching towards the heavens, manned by dead men, frozen in their dying position forever. A continent of corpses.

Her mind thrashed between these pictures until the small Daenerys inside her collapsed crying under the suffering she witnessed. The second she gave in, the cycle began anew.

“_Valar dohaeris, Daenerys Stormborn. Valar dohaeris.”_

While the voice spoke, she saw new things. She saw an Ice Queen, kissed by fire, with a crown of dire wolves and swords upon her head. This other queen was beautiful. Not only her face was pretty and her eyes clear as the sky, her posture was strong and her heart happy. She was safe and free and home. She was content.

Daenerys saw herself enter the halls in a gown of silver and black, a gown of metal and light fabric. The image of the Mother of Dragons and the Mhysa of People. Her hair was decorated with dozens of small braids and a circlet of valyrian steel was visible upon her forehead with many lances of silver and ebony black pearls upon them.

“Your Grace.” She hear herself greet this other queen, and the Ice Queen smiled.

“Your Grace.” She returned, standing up.

“_Valar dohaeris, Daenerys Stormborn. Valar dohaeris.”_

She was in another place then. A wide hall with high ceilings and huge windows. Rich gold and orange colors were everywhere. She felt the warm, forgiving air caress her skin. Inside the hall were two high chairs, almost thrones, with two figures upon them. One of them was a girl, with olive skin and large black eyes. Huge, brown locks cascaded down to her shoulders. Next to her was a man, tall and broad, with the same olive skin and dark hair. His beard was nicely trimmed and his eyes held mischief.

Both of them stood up as dream Daenerys entered the hall.

“Your Grace.”

“Your Highnesses.” She echoed and she could hear the smile in her own voice.

“_Valar dohaeris, Daenerys Stormborn. Valar dohaeris.”_

She was on a shore next, looking upon the largest fleet she has ever seen. There were ships everywhere she could turn, all of them bearing either the black and red banner of House Targaryen or the Kraken of House Greyjoy. Next to her two figures stood, in armor and ready to travel.

“Are you sure you want to go?”

“We are.” Answered a girl Daenerys has never seen before, yet her chest warmed with fondness at her sight. “I always wanted to know what was west of Westeros.”

“I’m half tempted to join you.” Daenerys chuckled and the girl shot her a grin.

“You can always change your mind.”

“We shall see.”

“_Valar dohaeris, Daenerys Stormborn. Valar dohaeris.”_

She saw a man. A man with dark hair and dark expression, standing upon the same wall of ice that tortured her with death. His huge black cape billowed in the unforgiving wind, a long sword on his side. Daenerys felt impossible fondness as she looked at him. Love. Family. He was someone important, she knew.

“You still want to go?”

“Aye.” He answered, though his brooding was finally broken as he turned towards her dream self and smiled. “I want to see what he was talking about. Besides. You yourself are going.”

She sighed and wrapped her arms around herself. She wore a huge black coat, fashioned into a gown, yet she felt the weight of light armor and trousers under it. Her huge V shaped neckline and the bottom of her coat was covered in dark furs.

“We drift apart.” She heard herself saying, heard her voice tighten with the lump in her throat. “The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives, you say. Then why are we breaking apart?”

“We are a pack.” He confirmed and hugged her shoulder, drawing her close as they were gazing upon a land that knew nothing but winter. “We might scatter, but we will always be a pack. None of us will become lone wolf anymore.”

Dream Daenerys let out a long sigh and buried her face in the furs upon her shoulder.

“Maybe your sister is right.”

“About what?”

“If we begin our journey four different ways, we might end up at the same crossroad.”

He chuckled.

“Aye. I’ll see you there then.”

“Mhm. See you there.”

“_Valar dohaeris, Daenerys Stormborn. Valar dohaeris.”_

When the morning came and Missandei entered her room, Daenerys was sitting on the floor beside the fireplace, looking into the fire she made herself sometime during the night, curled into a small ball. Daenerys almost didn’t even notice her as she was gazing into the flames, her visions repeating over and over before her eyes, the amazing, the good and the terrible. She made sure to remember every facet of every face.

“Your Grace? Why are you on the floor? Are you alright?”

“I am alright.” She said, voice quiet. “I am more than fine actually. I just realized what I must do.”

The translator crouched down beside her.

“And what is that, Your Grace?”

“Serve.”


	2. Chapter 2

Daenerys entered the War Room with a strange feeling. She looked down upon the carved table of Aegon the Conqueror and frowned. Her fingers trailed the edge as she walked towards the windows. She looked at the lion figures, the dragons, the suns, the kraken and something in her chest tightened. Outside her children played in the morning sun. Once the anguish of their mother faded, they were eager to get rid of their sore mood and hunt for their breakfast.

“Here this early, Your Grace?”

The voice belonged to Varys, her Master of Whisperers. Daenerys gave him a small smile, but it was short lived, since the table drew in her attention and made her mood sour.

“Lord Varys. Are there any news about our allies?”

“They’ll be here tomorrow Your Grace.”

Daenerys hummed, acknowledging his words before turning her attention to the small carved lions upon King’s Landing and Casterly Rock.

“And what of our enemies?”

“Cersei Lannister made no moves so far.”

A faint whisper rolled over the room and Dany felt a shiver do down her spine. She kept looking at the lion figures, as if they would confess the plans of their representatives. Her head ached from the whole night of crying, yet she couldn’t stop thinking. She’s been doing that since Missandei broke her out of her daze.

“Are you alright, Your Grace?”

‘Of course’, she wanted to say, but halted herself just as her lips parted to say the words. The lie. She wasn’t alright. She felt restless and she was in pain. A phantom wound ached on her chest, right above her heart and her head was pounding, as if tower bells were inside her brain, ringing endlessly.

“I am… not sure. Something doesn’t feel right.”

Varys frowned and looked upon the War Table.

“In our plans?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know. I know there is something I’m not noticing.”

Outside, the sounds of her children playing filled the island. Dany wanted nothing more than to climb onto Drogon and clear out her head. A roar answered his thoughts and she could feel the bond with her fiercest son rumble with agreement. Drogon wanted to fly too. So did Rhaegal and Viserion, though they longed more for some motherly touch.

“I need to clear my head. I’ll break my fast once I get back.” This was said to Missandei, who just entered with a tray of food in her hands.

Both of her advisors nodded and Daenerys disappeared down the corridor. She passed a few Unsullied and Dothraki on the way, all of them greeting her with their preferred titles, smiles on their faces. Dany didn’t know why, but seeing them show her this love filled her with so much joy, it almost made tears spill from her eyes. She internally scolded herself. _We smile at each other every morning,_ _why are you so affected now?_

It seems that her vision affected her more than she thought.

Outside at the cliffs her sons were waiting for her. She caressed each of them lovingly, murmuring to them in high valyrian. They seemed twice as eager to get her affection as any other day. Even Drogon nudged her over and over with his muzzle, towards himself, towards his wing, eager to soar the skies together. His most stubborn son didn’t show her this much love since his rebellious faze started.

She was right. Up in the sky, her thoughts cleared. Her body aligned with Drogon’s and she felt his immense power shimmer under her. Fire made flesh. Power made flesh. A glimpse of ashes from her vision soured her mood again, but the freedom of the skies washed it away almost instantly.

_Targaryens answer to neither gods nor men._

_Valar dohaeris, Daenerys Stormborn._

She shook her head. Her head was still pounding. It seems that she cannot escape her vision, even up here in the clouds. She sighed and leaned closer to Drogon, eager to feel his warmth. On her right, Viserion chirped, fishing for her attention. As soon as she looked towards him, the dragon did a double flip, dancing in the air with so much grace as a Braavosi water dancer.

Daenerys laughed and clapped.

Rhaegal, not one to get left out of the fun, demanded her attention next and took a deep dive and then an even higher ascend, making a huge and fast loop that made Dany hard to even follow his movements. She clapped for him too. She was so proud of her children.

Meanwhile Drogon grumbled, like the grumpy he was, but he felt the lingering anxiousness of his mother, so he seemingly decided to skip the show off. Dany caressed his scales and even planted a kiss between the spikes of his neck. When she opened her eyes and looked down, she realized she must have gotten further than she intended, because she saw a fleet right under her. This must be Yara on her way with her new allies, the Tyrells and the dornish.

She let out a chuckle. She didn’t even realize that they sent so many ships to collect them.

Then her eyes found a ship and widened in horror. No. These weren’t her allies.

This was Euron Greyjoy’s fleet.

Her mind cleared and she even jumped a little, as if a lightning struck right beside her. This was one of her enemies. The one who took the Seastone Chair from Yara Greyjoy. He was right underneath her. _They must have noticed me by now._ She thought, though no sound was carried this far up besides the faint noise of the winds.

What should she do? Her enemy is right under her. She could just burn their leader and get rid of a threat she almost forgot about. She was half tempted to urge her children to dive, but then she shook her head. This would be foolish. She isn’t prepared. They can’t shoot arrows this far up, so for now she is safe, but as soon as she descends to torch the main ship, she would be vulnerable. Her children would be vulnerable. Though she doubted that simple arrows could hurt them, a chilling thought reminded her what happened to Meraxes.

She felt a chill go down her spine. She bit her lip. _What should I do?_

Taking a deep breath, she tried to imagine what would happen should she kill Euron Greyjoy right now. She was alone. If Yara Greyjoy would be with her, she could place her at the front of the fleet.

_I should go back. _She thought, looking upon the huge fleet again. _Yara would arrive tomorrow. I could find an armor for myself until then. We could come back and do this properly._

But what if she won’t be that lucky to find them anymore? She stumbled upon them by luck most likely and there is now way they didn’t notice her. They could go anywhere from here to deceive her. She bit her lip again, feeling the salty and metallic taste of blood this time.

_I am a dragon. I shouldn’t start to second guess myself now!_

_Valar dohaeris, Daenerys Stormborn._

Letting out a defeated sigh, she turned Drogon back towards Dragonstone. She would do this properly and will not rush things. She can take the fleet later and in a much more controlled situation. If not tomorrow, then after that. Now that she saw the Iron Fleet for what it truly was, with her own eyes, she recognized how huge of threat they posed.

They could do anything with that much ships. They can pillage and kill and rape, they could ambush and destroy her smaller fleet. They could go and bring even more enemies to her shores.

She made up her mind. Cersei and Euron must never have a chance to scheme together against her, else her head start will disappear right before her eyes! Why did no one think about the Iron Fleet before? How could everyone forget about their more dangerous enemy? Cersei was unpredictable and dangerous for sure, but so was Euron Greyjoy and between the two of them, Euron was more mobile than Cersei will ever be. Their alliance could result in catastrophe on Daenerys’s side.

She almost jumped off of Drogon before the dragon could properly land. She hurried back inside the War Room where her cold breakfast was waiting for her, along with Varys and Tyrion, who were sitting at the table, talking and drinking, though mostly Tyrion did the drinking.

Daenerys paid them no mind as she stormed into the room and looked for the Greyjoy fleet on the map. The figure was at Pike. She almost laughed out loud. Grapping the piece, she all but slammed it down near Dragonstone, luckily not yet close to King’s Landing.

“Your Grace?” Her Hand asked, shocked.

“I just saw the Iron Fleet, heading for King’s Landing! Why didn’t I think of this? Of course he would see and alliance with another Queen!”

Her two advisors shared an alarmed look, both of them sprung to their feet.

“You _saw _them? Today?”

“While I was flying.” She hummed, her thoughts, already on her other plans. This changes everything. She was counting on the fact that Cersei would keep the Lannister army in the capital, because that’s what she wanted to defend, but if Euron brought her a second army, then the Lannisters or even a portion of this unknown army could move as they please. “I need an armor. I had the chance to get rid of them and I had to pass it because I was vulnerable. That can’t happen again.”

To her surprise, she saw relief on the faces of both Tyrion and Varys.

“What?” She asked, a little harshly.

“We were just about to advise you to have an armor made for yourself. Maybe a light saddle for the dragons so you can hold onto them. You know, like the ones in Old Valyria.”

She hummed. A saddle wouldn’t be a bad idea, but her dragons wouldn’t like it. Drogon especially. It would no doubt strains their connection while flying, not having the almost skin-to-skin contact. But at the same time, it would make them more agile in the air. After a while, Drogon would be able to maneuver however he wanted without the risk of her falling.

“Great idea. It’ll take a little coaxing on Drogon’s part, but it could be done.”

Tyrion lit up like a candle at her words.

“I’ll go to the blacksmiths ad order it at once! Along with your armor.”

“Do that, but not now. I need another battle strategy.”

“What? Why is that?”

“Because if we didn’t count on Euron Greyjoy, then what else did we miss?” She emphasized, walking in narrow circles. “We thought Cersei has no allies besides a few minor lords. Turns out she does have a very powerful ally. We thought that she can’t mobilize her forces unless she wants to leave the capital unprotected, but what about she can? How many month’s it took for us to come here? Two? While Euron was constantly on the move. What if he and Cersei already have an alliance? He could support her with an army and a fleet.”

“What army, Your Grace? Only the Vale and Dorne have fresh armies and I doubt the Vale would side with Cersei.” Tyrion said, but she could see that he was already starting to have doubts.

“But the world is bigger than Westeros.” Varys chimed in. “What of the Golden Company of Essos?”

“And what would she pay them with? The crown is bankrupt!”

The three of them stayed in a tense silence for a few seconds, Daenerys’s eyes sweeping over the map and stopping on…

“Highgarden. It’s full of riches and grain. Gold that she could use to pay the sell swords and food she could use to last a siege, even the winter that follows. Does Highgarden have an army to defend it?”

“Certainly not a full one. The Tyrells took their fair share during the War of the Five Kings.” Varys said.

“We need to station an army there. As soon as possible. Even better, start to strip it from everything of value and take it somewhere we can protect it properly. Dorne or Dragonstone.”

Tyrion said with a frown.

“That would divide our forces greatly. Attacking Casterly Rock, protecting Dragonstone, Highgarden and the carts that export the goods from the castle.”

“Then we will not attack Casterly Rock.”

“That would put as completely on defensive!”

Daenerys buried her face in her hands and sat down into a chair. What was she doing? She wasn’t a conqueror! Yes, they called her the Conqueror of Cities, but she had military advisors back then and she succeeded in sieges not full blown wars. She had Ser Barristan and Ser Jorah and even Daario. Just because she didn’t do exactly what they said, it didn’t mean that she did not listen.

Who did she have now? None of her Council was a military mind. Possibly Grey Worm, but he was trained to be a slave soldier and follow orders. He didn’t even see battle before Daenerys took the Unsullied from Astapor, so he and Dany have equal war experiences.

“We are bad at this.” She said, letting about a huff of cynical laughter. “None of us had to fight a war before. Political minds.” She gestured towards the two men, who were eyeing her sympathetically and with a little guilt too, since they can’t help her. “And Conqueror of Cities. I need someone who has seen war before. Real war. Someone, who was there in the thick of the planning.”

“I’m sorry to say, but there is no one like that amongst our allies.”

She sighed. Then Varys continued.

“But, we can look at the books for guidance. Stannis Baratheon was a military mind, I’m sure his library would be composed of books related to strategies.”

“That’s a really good idea. We’ll do that.”

After that she went to speak with Grey Worm about his ideas related to strategy. Her Commander didn’t know the terrain, so there wasn’t much he could do at the moment, but he reaffirmed her idea of protecting and stripping Highgarden as quickly as possible.

“The Masters taught us that the three things we have to protect are our masters, the food and the riches. Food and riches win long wars.”

Daenerys told him about her idea of taking Yara tomorrow and look for the Iron Fleet, chasing it into a trap and taking the fleet from Greyjoy before he could make Cersei even more powerful. Grey Worm didn’t like the idea of his Queen flying into battle again, but just like Tyrion and Varys, he relaxed when Dany told him that she intends to use a proper armor.

The rest of the day she looked through the library with Missandei and Tyrion. At first, they didn’t read only the first entries, once they realized that most of the maesters concentrated on glorifying the victors rather than on the strategies that they used. By nighttime, they found four books that were dry and practical enough that Daenerys and her advisors could learn from them.

That evening she spent the night by the fire with Tyrion, Missandei and Grey Worm, going over the strategies they’ve read about.

“Then, we can attack from the sides with the Dothraki. They can flank the enemy, who will become disorganized and defeated in minutes.” Tyrion explained, while gesturing his hands.

Grey Worm was nodding to this, seemingly pleased with the plan, since the losses would be reduced on their side. Of course, no battle plan survives the first contact with the enemy, but with this, they can maneuver in many angles. They just need to find the terrain to utilize it first.

“What’s on your mind, Your Grace?” Missandei asked, noticing her sour expression.

“I’m worried about these things call scorpions.” She said, turning the book in her hand so they can see it. “This was the weapon that killed Meraxes. If we can access this information, than so can Cersei and Euron. I’m worried about my dragons.”

Worried silence was her answer so she continued.

“I was thinking that your idea with the saddle would help greatly, Lord Tyrion, but I need more than that. Maybe me and my dragons can practice dodging these bolts. We can use blunt wooden rods and my armor, so neither I nor my dragons could get hurt, yet gain experience.”

This idea was met with reluctant approval. It warmed her heart to see that everyone worried for her so much, even if she would be as safe as possible during practice. Once the others left to sleep however, her vision came back more vividly. She tossed and turned for about an hour before giving up and went to make a fire in the fireplace. Pushing her hand into the fire, she let out a relieved sigh. The fire always caressed her and helped to clear her mind and find her piece.

“Valar dohaeris.”

She said it multiple times today, when no one could hear her. She said it in the air with her dragons, muttered it into her bowl of soup and the books she was reading and growled it to the lion figures on her table. The more she said it, the angrier she was at Cersei for the selfish way she ruled while her people suffered, and the more worried she became for her allies.

She made up her mind about keeping them either in Dorne or Dragonstone until she sits on the iron throne and her people could be safe. Many of them would object no doubt, but she already had promises on the ready for them. Cersei will live until they arrive and they can witness her execution. Their armies could participate in the siege, though she won’t tolerate any violence towards the small folk.

“Valar dohaeris.”

Thinking about the faces in her vision made her think who they might be. The Ice Queen with the crown of wolves and sword upon her head might be a Stark. The two royalties in the golden halls can be Martells. The other girl, the one who wanted to find out what was west of Westeros was a mystery to her and so was the man upon the wall of ice. The Wall. They spoke about a Pack in her vision. Maybe he was a Stark too.

But no. All the male Starks were dead, Lord Varys had said. The only living son of Eddard Stark was Jon Snow. Maybe that’s who he was.

Jon Snow. He was the one who intrigued her the most. She felt a strange kind familiarity in the vision towards him. They even hugged each other, speaking about journeys and meeting again. Daenerys’s heart both swelled and ached at the thought. Maybe she would find friends here in, Westeros. The Ice Queen certainly seemed happy to see her, as did the Mystery Girl and this man who could be Jon Snow.

“Valar dohaeris.” She murmured again and the more she said, the less her head and chest ached.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> English is not my first language, feel free to correct me if you want.


	3. Chapter 3

She woke up next to the fireplace.

The Sun was in the middle of crawling up on the horizon. The whole stronghold was silent. Daenerys took a look at her hand and shuddered. She left it in the fireplace and now it was covered in ash. For some reason, it made her stomach turn, so she used her nightgown to get rid of it.

Taking her long, dark coat from the chair beside the bed, she wrapped herself up and began to silently stalk the corridors. The stone floor felt cold beneath her naked feet, but it grounded her in a nice way. Her steps were soundless, even her breath was silent. She felt like one of the ghost of her ancestors, haunting the hallways.

She went up the rookery, eager to be as high in the sky as possible. She stopped when she saw a silent figure standing with the ravens. It was Lord Varys. He noticed her with a surprised expression.

“Your Grace! What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to clear my head a little. I couldn’t sleep well.”

“Is this about the Greyjoy fleet?”

“Mostly. I’m worried. About my allies. About my soldiers. About the people who might get hurt in the crossfire.” He nodded his understanding. “Tell me Lord Varys, you know King’s Landing as well as anyone could, right?”

“I like to think I do, Your Grace.”

“I’m having a ridiculous idea that might just work, and I would like to hear your thoughts about it.”

They say down on one of the clean seats and she leaned close to whisper.

“I was thinking about what would happen if we can get rid of Euron Greyjoy and ideally get in possession of his fleet. That would leave Cersei alone. If she would send out her soldiers as we thought, to sack Highgarden, than taking the city should be easy, right?”

“As easy as a siege with few men manning the walls can be Your Grace.”

“Right. But let’s think about a long term siege for a moment. I always conquered cities in a few days with tricks and as few casualties as possible. I never had the issue of a wall between me and my enemies before, but I’m told sieges are brutal. People are starving. Food values more than gold and precious stones.”

He nodded, frowning at the mere thought.

“So I was thinking, we can smuggle in a little food. Just for the people inside. We can use your knowledge of the tunnels so we won’t get noticed.”

His face showed surprise.

“That would certainly lessen the suffering of the people, but their lack of starving would get noticed.”

“I know. So that’s why we would have them know that we were the one to help them. So after a week or two, they would trust us and we can began to smuggle people out of the city. We can move them to safety. Of course, after a while that would be noticed too. So I was thinking, dressing a handful of our soldiers up a peasants, we can plant them in the city. One night they can get rid of the guards at a smaller gate and my Unsullied can get in under the dark of the night. We can seize the Red Keep before morning without dragons.”

For a few moments, silence reigned in the rookery. Then the Master of Whisperers spoke.

“That is certainly a wild idea, Your Grace, but it could work. But we must be really careful about who knows of this.”

“I know. I haven’t told anyone yet. We will include Tyrion, Missandei and Grey Worm. Not our allies for now. I want to meet them and get to know them first.”

“Wise decision Your Grace. Will you tell them personally?”

“You can tell Tyrion of you meet him before I have a chance to. I’ll tell Missandei and Grey Worm in valyrian at today’s breakfast.”

Daenerys went back to her room after that, getting ready for today. She decided to wear one of her black gowns. It was styled with a little metal on the front that made the dress look like an armor. With black pants and leather boots, her movements were easy. A huge dark fabric made up the majority of the dress that was open in the front, but looked like a dress from behind, clinging to her hips. On the front, an amount of fabric was designed to look like a shawl. This outfit made her look regal yet a dragon rider at the same time. Missandei created a crown upon her head out of four loose braids and tied the rest of her locks into a thight one. She would let her hair loose once the war was won. Until then, practicality enjoyed priority.

She walked into the War Room with her breakfast in one hand and a book in the other. She was reading about saddle types, trying to decide which one would be the best. She wanted something light and agile, something that wouldn’t restrict Drogon.

“Your Grace.” Tyrion was already inside, rearranging the figures on the table.

“Lord Hand. You are early.”

“Not as early as you were, according to Lord Varys.”

Dany put down the book, took a bacon and some boiled eggs from her plate with a slice of bread and pushed the rest towards Tyrion. There was more than enough on her plate anyway and she wasn’t hungry at all, but ate out of necessity.

“You two have spoken already?”

“Yes, he just left in fact. Checking on the accommodations of our soon to be guests. He told me an interesting idea of yours.”

Daenerys raised a questioning eyebrow and continued to chew on her bacon. Tyrion helped himself from the offered plate and pushed a cup of sweet vine towards her, his cup already refilled.

“I think it’s… interesting. I would pay a good price to see my sister’s face once she figures what had happened. I’ve never seen it done before, but Grey Worm tells me you’ve conquered cities with this method before.”

“Not exactly with this, but similar, yes.”

“Well, it’s better by miles than a regular siege. But we have to be really careful?”

She let out a sarcastic chuckle at that.

“Aren’t we always?”

They ate and drank in silence for a few minutes, silently moving the pieces on the table. It looked good. It looked much, much better and she wasn’t done yet. Soon after they finished breaking their fast, two people came into the room. One was Lord Varys in his black robes and an unhappy scowl on his face. The blacksmith came earlier however, so Dany was talking to him about her saddle and armor ideas, as well as a sword, while Tyrion and Varys spoke between themselves.

As soon as the blacksmith left, she approached her two advisors.

“Did something happen?”

“Nothing bad Your Grace. Only, a red priestess from Asshai is here to see you.” Tyrion said.

_Valar dohaeris, Daenerys Stormborn._

She tried her best to seem impassive, but she must have failed, for the two man sent her worrying glances. Putting down her cup, she quietly ordered them to send in the priestess and leave the two of them alone to talk. Of course, they began to object, but she wasn’t in the mood to argue about this and told them that two Dothraki will be in the room with them. This eased their worries some and they left.

She felt it in her bones. This meeting was important. Therefore it must be honest.

The woman who caller herself Melisandre of Asshai was dressed in all red. She had fiery locks, red and wild, and a huge ruby was glistering on her necklace. She pushed down her red hood and looked at Daenerys with an expression close to awe.

“You heard his voice.” Was the first thing she said.

“I did.” Daenerys confessed, looking into the fire. “He showed me visions. Visions of possible futures. One good. One horrible.” Even right now, as she was looking into the flames, she saw the faces of three people in particular. The Ice Queen, The Mystery Girl and the man she though was Jon Snow.

Melisandre quietly and carefully walked over to her.

“You see things is the flames.”

“I do. I was always resistant to fire, but never had visions like this before. I see people. A gigantic wall of ice. A continent that is a graveyard and a continent that prospers.”

“He shows you people that would be important in your Journey.”

“Journey?”

“R’Hllor chose you, Daenerys Stormborn. I felt your fire the second I stepped foot onto this island. You are stronger than anyone I have ever met. Well, perhaps except him, but he only has the potential and has yet to access his power.”

“Him?”

“Jon Snow.”

She looked at Melisandre. This name intrigued her in many ways. Jon Snow. The most common name a bastard can get, yet there was something in it that grabbed Daenerys attention with clawed hands and refused to let go.

“I know he is the bastard son of Eddard Stark, but that is all.”

“He is more than that already Your Grace, much more. He is King in the North.”

She looked back into the flames yet saw the same thing. The Ice Queen, smiling at her like a lost sister. The North will have no king, she thought. Who is this woman? Is she Jon Snow’s wife? His successor?

“You don’t believe me.” Melisandre observed, looking into the fire herself, but Dany had a feeling they were seeing different things.

“He might be King in the North now, but I doubt that is his destiny. I see a woman. A Queen of Ice whose hair is kissed by fire. She is tall and wrapped in grey furs, with a crown of wolves and swords upon her head.”

Melisandre thought for a second.

“That might be Sansa Stark, half-sister of Jon Snow.”

Sansa Stark. Yes, that name felt tight. Sansa Stark of Winterfell, Queen in the North. Daenerys found that she felt no ire towards this woman, who was destined to be the ruler of one of the Seven Kingdoms she wanted to take back from the Lannisters. Sansa Stark in the North felt right. Good.

She didn’t came here to rule at any cost. She came here to help anyone who needs it, just like she did in Essos. If the North wanted to be independent and they can uphold that independence without suffering, Daenerys was willing to sit down and negotiate an alliance with them.

_Valar dohaeris, Daenerys Stormborn._

“Tell me more about Jon Snow.”

She did. She told Daenerys many things about this man, and with each word Dany was surer that this man was the same she saw standing at the top of the Wall. This man was exceptional. He saw things few had seen and lived to tell the tale. He let the Wildlings, the _Free Folk_ past the Wall to save them from horrible fate. He was killed by his own men and resurrected by the very same woman who was standing next to her, and by the power of R’Hllor.

_Valar dohaeris, Daenerys Stormborn._

He took back his ancestral home form the Bolton’s who betrayed his house, lead his brother into a slaughter and defiled his sister. He was the King the North chose. Daenerys respected this man. He was a warrior and a leader. A king who served.

“Summon Jon Snow. I believe you two are destined to work together.”

“Destiny.” She closed her eyes and sighed. “Valar dohaeris.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dany may seem a little pushover and I get everyone who considers this a dealbreaker. My only defense is that she is learning. She is young and is trying out new ways to rule and conquer, while trying her best to save as many as possible. She needs to try out different ways to rule until she finds the best one.


	4. Chapter 4

She did summon Jon Snow. Thought, it was more of an invitation. She phrased it as a Queen who did not come here to conquer at all cost, but to help people make a better life for themselves. She addressed him as King in the North, because that’s the title he earned, and she respected someone who made castles out of dry sand.

As soon as the raven was sent, Missandei let her know that her allies arrived. She smothered a few wrinkles on her clothes and went immediately to the War Room, not a fan of wasting time or intimidating people with useless power plays. That’s was her sons job, whose screeches and roars could be heard all around the stronghold.

When she entered the War Room, everyone stood. She took her first look at the lords and ladies of her people. A vengeful old Lady and an angry woman. This is what Westeros was how. Full of angry and hurt people who had been crushed under the tyranny of a sadistic boy and a mad woman. She couldn’t help but view the whole continent as a giant, festering wound that desperately needed healing.

She already knew Theon and Yara, who smiled at her when she entered.

“I thank you all for coming here, as well as your support.” She said, standing at the head of the table.

“It’s our pleasure, Your Grace.” Said Ellaria Sand.

Dany could see the lust for vengeance in her eyes. She could understand that. She felt the same when Ser Barristan died. But Ellaria Sand murdered an innocent child in the name of her revenge. That she could not condone, yet couldn’t punish it either, not until her rule was secure and everyone was safe. Maybe not ever, if she wanted to keep Dorne content and in line.

The Queen of Thorns eyed Daenerys with a strange expression. No doubt Tyrion already told her Dany’s plan on taking the Greyjoy fleet to strip Highgarden of valuables.

“I am sorry in advance of cutting this meeting short. Yesterday I spotted the Iron Fleet heading for King’s Landing and I have the full intention of pursuing and defanging them as soon as possible. Now that Queen Yara is here, I would like for you to come with me, with about twenty of your fastest ships. Me and my dragons will follow you in the air.” She eyed the Kraken piece in her hand. “Euron Greyjoy made the Iron Fleet for me as a gift, along with his ‘big cock’, if I remember correctly. While I am eternally grateful for both, I’m afraid I’ll have to pass on the latter. The former however.”

Yara Greyjoy had a gleeful smile on her face. The other two women, Ellaria Sand and Olenna Tyrell looked at each other with pleased expressions. This is what they were promised, they just had to wait for their turns. Fire and Blood for their enemies.

_Valar dohaeris, Daenerys Stormborn._

“As for King’s Landing, the city will be put under siege until after the Iron Fleet has been dealt with. I don’t like surprises, and I don’t want Euron Greyjoy breathing a second more than necessary.”

Everyone in the room nodded, though Lord Varys and her Lord Hand were a little pale. Maybe it was the ruthless way she presented her plans. But they knew all of it beforehand and knew that she would reduce bloodshed as much as possible.

“Now, I would like to go sail out as soon as possible. How much time do you need?” She asked, turning to Yara.

“An hour at worst, Your Grace.”

“That’s perfect. This council is dismissed. If everything goes in order, we shall see each other in a week at best. Lady Olenna, if you could stay for a few minutes please.”

Everyone bowed and begin to leave the room. Once it was just her and the Queen of Thorns, she walked over to the fire and began to stroke it with the poker. Staring into the flames, she reached for another log and put it into the fire, fascinated and calmed by the warmth of it.

“A Queen who makes her own fire.” Lady Olenna said, in an amused tone.

“They call me the Mother of Dragons and The Unburnt. It would be a sad world, if I couldn’t lit on my own fire.” She then turned towards the old lady and sat down at the nearest chair, so they can talk face-to-face. “I’m sure one of my advisors already let you know what I plan to do with Highgarden.”

“I’ve heard some things, yes.”

“Let me tell you this, My Lady. I don’t intend to take these goods from you. War swallows coin and food like an endless pit. Though it would be nice if we could come to an agreement about said food, the main reason I wanted the castle to be stripped of everything is that I don’t want to risk the Lannisters sacking your ancestral home.”

“Then what do you intend?” The Queen of Thorns asked, her eyes now kinder and pleased.

“I plan on giving the lions a lesson that they’ll never forget. Instead of food that they can feed their army with and gold that they can use to bring more enemies to our shores, they’ll find a castle filled with Dothraki and Unsullied. My Dothraki are excellent archers and even better on the field.”

She gestured towards the table they were sitting next to, stood up and begin to point out her plans.

“I had Lord Varys let it slip that I intend to take Casterly Rock from the Lannisters with full force. A lie. I’ll send a portion of my Unsullied there. I’ll briefly join them on Drogon once I’ve dealt with Euron Greyjoy with Queen Yara, making sure that they aren’t attacked before or after the siege.”

She gestured towards the dragons on the table, picked up a carved piece and put it above Highgarden.

“Then I’ll fly to Highgarden and see if there is any trouble with the extraction of gold and food. If everything goes smoothly, I plan to leave a small army behind that can hold the castle in case of a siege until I can get back and defeat our enemies from dragon back. While they are staying there, I’ll accompany the ships with my three sons, making sure that we don’t lose anything.”

Lady Olenna was smirking by the end of her explanation.

“You are very sharp, I’ll give you that, Your Grace. Playing both defensive and offensive at the same time.”

Daenerys nodded her thanks.

“I would like you and Lady Ellaria to remain on Dragonstone until either land or sea is safe for travel. I doubt Cersei wouldn’t hatch up a wicked plan to get rid of you, considering that both of you feel mutual hatred towards her.”

“I can stay, but some of my family is still in Highgarden. My grandson Willas and a few distant cousins to my grandchildren. I want them safe.”

“It can be done.” Daenerys said, gesturing towards the carved ships. “They can be smuggled back, away from the main fleet, dressed as commoners and fishers. If we don’t manage to take out the Iron Fleet as a whole, they’ll be safer away from the main fleet, which will be an undeniable target.”

“Good. I won’t keep you anymore, Your Grace. I’m sure you’re eager to put your plan in action.”

“That I am, My Lady. That I am.”

***

It took them three days to clash with the Iron Fleet. From the air, it was clear that the Kraken has split his forces. Which means that a good portion of the fleet must be elsewhere. She needed to conclude this battle fast, so she can go and check on her smaller fleet with the Unsullied and Dothraki on board. Under her, the Iron Fleet stretched out like a huge monster, encircling her smaller fleet, cutting off retreat.

It went smoothly for them until she and her sons descended from the skies. With Drogon descending from high above, they had no chance to aim with the scorpions. The sun made it impossible to aim properly and she was too agile, since she has been practicing maneuvers for the past three days. While she burned at least thirty ships with one flaming breath from Drogon, her other two sons attacked from the back, surprising the panicking pirates and bathing them in flames before they could utter a cry.

In a few minutes, the tentacles of the kraken were reduced to cinders. Daenerys congratulated herself on borrowing the armor from Yara before her own custom made armor was ready, since not one, but two arrows bounced down from the plates, on at her back, the other her head.

Once she was done and the pirates began surrendering, she handed the reins to Yara, who announced the promise Daenerys made to her when they left Dragonstone.

“You have the chance to kneel or to die. If you choose to kneel and you betray me or you kill me, the Dragon Queen made a wow to let her dragons loose on you until nothing but ashes remain. Know this when you choose.”

Daenerys was a little conflicted about the ‘kneel or die’ ultimatum, but steeled her mind. These men and women were pillagers, murderers, rapists, some of them even slavers. It would be her right and her justice to execute every one of them. She certainly would never trust them. But she trusted that Yara could reign them in while she had the mighty shadow of Drogon backing her up, and a deadly wow from a Queen known to have no mercy for the wicked.

She reminded herself that this was a one-time deal. When she would face the army of the Lannisters, composed mostly by green boys and peasants that had spears and swords thrust into their hands, she would give them the option of being prisoners of war, and later stand trial when she secured her reign.

“_My hand will never be covered by the ashes of innocents.”_

_Valar dohaeris, Daenerys Stormborn._

Once the situation with Yara was secure, she was hesitant to send this new fleet anywhere. She couldn’t trust them to remain loyal to Yara, not even with the threat of death hanging above them. Knowing that Euron Greyjoy was a terrible man, since she heard horrifying rumors about what he usually does to deserters. It may be that many would prefer death by dragon fire, which burned so hot that a direct hit reduced a grown man to ashes in second.

She had a plan for them, for which she needed them close. Dragonstone had still five hundred Unsullied inside, with a portion of her own fleet and ten thousand Dothraki in the fortress. The new fleet will dock there until she gets a reply to her raven.

***

The conquest of Casterly Rock was easy, thanks to Tyrion’s strategy. However, she was just in time to see that the rest of the Iron Fleet arrived, ready for battle. Or at least a good portion of the rest, since she still haven’t seen the monstrous flagship that she spotted on the first time she saw the fleet. Bathing a portion of them in flames was easy, using the same tactic as before.

Her armor saved her yet again from an arrow to the shoulder. She was grateful, yet at the same time couldn’t want to get out of it and finally have her own custom made one, since this one didn’t fit perfectly and made moving around a nightmare. Her own will be done by the time she returns to Dragonstone in the next two weeks, along with her sword and the first version of the saddle for Drogon.

As Drogon landed on one of the enormous boulders that stood out from the sea, she addressed the ones that surrendered.

“Your Salt King’s power is reduced day by day. Two days ago, I took three hundred ships from him, burned at least a hundred more. Today I took another two hundred from him, and again, turned at least a hundred into ash. Know that I fully plan on hunting down the rest. Now the choice is yours. Kneel before me or die.” At the end of her speech, Drogon gave a mighty roar, which was answered by her two other sons.

Yet one fool decided that it was time to play the brave man.

“Die, you whore!” He screamed, letting loose an arrow towards her.

Drogon was faster. His wing covered Daenerys up like a gigantic curtain, fast enough to have the tip of the arrow bounce down from his scales. If her son was just a fraction slower, she would’ve died here.

Now however, she was pissed.

“Death it is.” She hissed. “Very well. Dracarys.”

The other prisoners jumped away just in time to avoid the inferno unleashed on the miserable fool. He was blown to cinders in seconds. This made almost every prisoner tremble, many fell on their knees in shock.

“Is there anyone else who desires to die for their king?”

There was none.

Pleased with the results, she flown back to the castle, where Grey Worm was waiting for her, along with one of her Dothraki Generals, Najaho. She ordered them to strip the castle from anything valuable and then used these ships to carry it back to Dragonstone. She ordered every pirate to remain in chains until Yara could decide their fate herself.

“We’ll depart to meet the carts from Highgarden at Old Oak tomorrow.”

She barely got any sleep that night. She spent her night with the Dothraki in a tent pitched just for her. She drank and laughed and felt at home. Her warriors cheered at her victory, raising their cups and screaming even louder when she drank the whole horn of alcohol after the toast.

“_Khaleesi!”_

After everyone went to sleep, she visited her sons. Drogon was laying on a small cliff, sometimes letting out sounds that resembled the purring of a huge cat. Rhaegal and Viserion made their place right next and under him on the hill, chirping at each other softly, as if they were in a whispering conversation. The arrival of their mother stroke their mood and they welcomed her with open wings.

She cooed at both of them in valyrian for a few minutes, scratching them at their favorite places and plating small motherly kisses on their scales. They long have forgiven her that she locked them up in the pyramid, but she took every chance to apologize and follow it up with promises of love. She told them how proud she was of their strength and valor.

Drogon didn’t really move when she went over to him, just raised his wing a little, so Daenerys can snuggle next to his chest and sleep there, covered by the huge blanket of his wings.

The tiny Queen let out a content sigh in the warm presence of her son.

“Valar dohaeris.” She said, to the silence.

She was doing her job. Taking care of the Iron Fleet, even if it happens bit by bit, elevates a great burden from the war torn country. Her own soldiers don’t pillage and murder when they march. Not even the Dothraki would harm anyone, since she specifically ordered them not to. They heeded her because she wasn’t only their Khaleesi, she was almost like a goddess to them. Leading them through the poison water, riding the mightiest mount that could ever exist and walking in fire.

“Valar dohaeris.”

She was protecting her allies and their possessions, their homes and their families. They were as safe as they could ever be. Their vengeance was already on the horizon and Daenerys intended to serve it to them.

“Valar dohaeris.”

She had so many plans. For the nobles and the small folk alike. For their cities, their roads, their villages, wells, animals and markets. She would make everything great again. She had grand plans, plans that would consume money like a huge pit. She just needed the money to do so.

And she knew exactly where to find it.

“Valar dohaeris.”


	5. Chapter 5

It took them three weeks to reach Dragonstone with the gold and the food. Even the family of Lady Olenna arrived, since the winds were gracious and their ships fast. Not once did they see the last three hundred ships of Euron Greyjoy. When she descended with Drogon, her son gave a victorious roar, echoed by the twin screeches of his brothers and the war cries of the Dothraki. They viewed this a successful pillage.

When she entered the War Room, finally back in her dark robes, everyone stood and this time, all her allies bowed deep, except the Lady Olenna, but even the old lady gave her a respectful curtsy. She was more than a would be conqueror now. She came back from two battles victorious and according to the songs Lord Varys brought, she’ll soon fight in a third battle. The Lannister army was marching towards Highgarden. It would take them two more weeks to reach the castle.

More than enough time for Daenerys to stretch her legs a little. She had plans for her next seven days on Dragonstone. She wanted to practice with Drogon and her sons in the sky, try out her new armor and saddle. She also wanted to learn the way of the sword and the spear. She already knew some archery from her time with the Dothraki and intended to polish that skill.

And according to some other songs, a King could turn up on her shores in any minute now.

“My Lords and Ladies. I’m pleased to say that I have only good news for us. The food, the gold and the people are secured from Highgarden. Casterly Rock was also tripped of what remaining valuables it held. We took five hundred ships from the Iron Fleet and I burned two hundred more.”

All three women looked very pleased with the situation. Daenerys did not waste her time, she took the lion figure and placed it closer to Highgarden.

“Lord Varys tells me the Lannister army would reach Highgarden in two weeks. Me and my sons would join our forces and put an end to the siege they’ll no doubt lay the castle under. After that, the Lioness will have no teeth nor claw to attack, she could only hole up in her city.”

“Or she could send assassins after you.” Lady Olenna said with a frown.

“I’m well aware of that. I’ve been running from assassins since I was born. We’ll triple our defenses until we took the capital and my reign is secured. Lord Varys, I urge you to look for Euron Greyjoy everywhere. I don’t trust him while he breaths, maybe not after he is dead.”

The Master of Whisperers bowed his head.

“Alright. Does anyone have any matters to address?”

“I would have one matter I’d like to discuss in private.” The Queen of Thorns said with a small smirk.

“Me too. Me and my daughters would like to welcome Your Grace to dinner.”

Daenerys nodded, then looked at her Hand, who pulled out a few letters from his sleeve. Lord Varys only bowed his head, indicating that he had nothing to share at the moment. Yara Greyjoy gave her a suggestive smirk, one that drew an amused chuckle from Dany and the promise that she’ll think about it.

After that, besides Lord Tyrion, everyone left. She assured Lady Olenna that she will visit her quarters in the next two hours. Once it was only the two of them, Daenerys and Tyrion took one cup of vine each and sat down before the fire.

“How’ve been things here?” She asked, taking a sip.

“Well, as good as it could be, I suppose. Lady Ellaria expressed her great displeasure of my presence and I was happy to ensure her that the feeling was mutual. Other than that, nothing of importance.”

Daenerys took one of his hands into her own and looked him straight in the eye.

“I know how this is hard for you. Your niece was innocent and she didn’t deserve the fate she got. I am sorry that I cannot bring her the justice you want. We both know that this is an unjust world, a terrible world. But we will change it. You and me and everyone who chose me. We’ll build a world where no little girls would be harmed anymore.”

He swallowed, no doubt feeling his throat tighten up and took a huge sip.

“I understand you position Your Grace. If I wouldn’t be personally involved, I would’ve advised the same. After all, we all know what happens to rulers who enforce their justice at the cost of their allies.”

She sighed and nodded. He told her many stories. About a Young Wolf King, who wanted to give justice to two small murdered boys and executed one of his strongest banner man because of it. And what did he gain? An ancient alliance broken and a good portion of his army deserting him. Or another king, a Stag, who was too rigid in his ways. Too just and straightforward. In turn, he had no friends to back his claim, though it would’ve been rightfully his.

Because it was theirs, wasn’t it. The Stags had killed the Dragons and took their throne. The second Aerys was dead and Robert Baratheon sat on the Iron Throne, the Targaryen became the rulers of the past. Daenerys had no more claim to that throne than Joffrey Lannister had.

_There is only one claim for me. The claim of conquest. That cannot be challenged, cannot be overruled by family of long dead kings appearing out of nowhere. _

“The letter?” She asked, trying to get her mind away from dark topics like these.

“Of course. First, the King in the North accepted your request to come here.”

“He did?” She asked, intrigued.

Taking the letter, she ran her eyes through the lines. He was just as polite as she was in her own letter, reciting both of their titles and saying that he would come to Dragonstone personally to broker an alliance with her. And then there was another thing that caught her eyes.

“Threat in the North?” She mused out loud. “I thought he let the Free Folk south of the Wall.”

“Don’t ask me. No one ever understands what northerners are talking about. I’m pretty sure they speak a different language than the rest of the Seven Kingdoms.”

“It seems it’s only Six Kingdoms now. Or Five Kingdoms. It depends on whether or not Queen Yara could be persuaded to swear fealty.”

He looked at her curiously, so she put down her cup.

“What?”

“You really intend to let them rule?”

“I don’t really know. I’d like to get to know this Jon Snow first. I didn’t come here to conquer at all cost, Lord Tyrion. A few years before I didn’t even dare to dream about the Iron Throne. It was never supposed to be mine anyway. All I really wanted is family. And since I can’t have children anymore, my dynasty will be short lived anyway.”

She turned back to the flames.

_Valar dohaeris, Daenerys Stormborn._

“We came here to break the wheel. To get rid of tyrants and let the realm heal and thrive. Does it really need to be united for that? This land has seen so much war already. I saw it when I flew over some villages on the road. Every time I asked myself, ‘Is the idea of ruling Seven Kingdoms so important to me that I’d put these people through another year of suffering? Especially now, that winter is here.’ And I figured that it really isn’t. I just want to help.”

“You can help if you rule.”

“I will rule those who want to be ruled by me. The North and the Iron Islands already have chosen rulers. Their people want to be ruled by them, just as the people who called me Mhysa wanted to be ruled by me.”

When she didn’t receive any answer from him, she looked over her shoulder, searching his face. He was looking at her with marvel in his eyes, as if he was seeing her for the first time.

“Sometimes I look at you and I can barely believe that you exist.” he confessed turning back to his cup, just like her old bear did, once upon a time. “That an evil world like this could produce someone with so much kindness. You are a wonder, Daenerys Stormborn. One of the few lights left in this darkness. Please never change.”

She chuckled and leaned back in her chair.

“I don’t intend to. You had other letters for me?”

“Oh, yes. They sent you a reply.”

“And?”

He handed over yet another scroll. She read it and felt a smirk tinkle her mouth.

“Good.” Knocking back the rest of her vine, she stood. “Want to accompany me to get my armor?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

***

She barely felt the heat of the forge when she entered. Inside a few men were working tirelessly. When one of them spotted her, he came over and bowed. This was the same blacksmith who took her order tree weeks before.

“It is done, Your Grace.”

He said proudly, gesturing towards a figure cowered by a huge white blanket. As the three of them walked over, many of the other men stopped working, eagerly expecting her reaction. He took one corner of the fabric and handed it to her, allowing her the honor to uncover her new armor. She did it, almost immediately. Once it was revealed, it took her breath away.

It was composed of many pieces. Everything about it was slender and closed. The shoulder pieces were wide but not bulk. The chest was decorated with her sigil. Masterfully crafted patterns ran over every plate. The gloves were tiny and graceful, the boots a little high heeled and a little bulkier, but at a closer look, she noticed something interesting about them. Just under her heels were two holes. She gasped, realizing what those where. The connecting point to her new saddle.

Attached to the shoulder plates was an enormous black cape, a few feet longer than her height. And it wasn’t made of fabric, rather something close to chainmail.

“What is this?” She asked, brushing her fingers against the strange cape.

“Take a look at this, Your Grace.”

The blacksmith drew her attention to two small clasps on the gloves, right above her wrists. Then he grabbed the cape, which appeared to be a little lighter than it first seemed and searched its edge until he found another small clasp. He linked the two together and pulled it a few times to illustrate its strength.

“We heard that one of the iron born shot an arrow at you, Your Grace. When you’re flying, you can attach the cape to your gloves. It won’t stop the bolt completely, but the strike will turn unto a bludgeoning damage rather than the regular piece of the arrow. Along with the helmet, even your face will be safe, if you react fast enough. And since you’ll be fastened to the saddle, it can’t even knock you off your dragon.”

Daenerys was baffled and caressed her new armor with awe. She could barely wait to try it on. She would seem like Visenya reborn in this.

“Helmet, you say?”

“Pardon me, just a second.”

He hurried over to the next room and then brought out another piece of armor covered in cloth. She unpacked it, just to be baffled yet again. She’s never worn a helmet before, but this one was just begging for her to try it one. The majority of her face was still open. The metal covered her cheeks and her nose, making it easier to see. But that wasn’t what caught her attention.

It was the three dragon figures at the top. One dragon’s wings reached down, as if one of her sons was protecting her cheeks. The second dragon’s wings encircled the top of her head, as if crowing her. The third dragon stretched out its wings, like it was challenging the whole world to face them.

“I’ve never seen a work more marvelous.” She said, amazement taking her voice. “Thank you my friend. You and everyone here will be rewarded handsomely.”

“Your Grace.” A young man spoke up, barely over fifteen.

She gestured for him to come forward. He did so, and he carried another package in his hands. This time, the shape made it obvious what it was. A sword. A bastard sword she ordered for herself, yet almost forgot about in the excitement. Uncovering the blade, she thought about her brother Rhaegar.

_I won’t fall in battle, brother. I promise you that._

The sword was just as amazing as the armor was. The blade was light and slender, just like she was. A double edged blade, to remind her that every decision has a merit and a consequence. The handle was the slender body of a dragon, the cross-guard the wings of the creature, while the rain-guard was it’s her. The eye of the dragon seemed to gleam with life in the fires of the many forges around them.

“Lord Tyrion.” She said, eyeing the sword in awe. “Do you remember how much I was going to pay for the armor and sword?”

“Not the exact number Your Grace.”

“Doesn’t matter. Make it thrice as much. And a feast for these good man, who made sure their queen would be protected and armed.”

The cheer that rolled over the forge was deafening.

***

She had the armor and the sword placed in her chamber, and the blacksmith teach her how to clean both the blade and the armor herself. She wanted to take care of her own strength and protection. The cape especially fascinated her. She weighed it a few times. It was surprisingly light, compared to its size and matter. She had it tested with a crossbow. It worked marvelously.

The saddle needed a few more days to be ready, so she had to wait before she could begin to exercise with Drogon. Until then, she wanted to test it out if Viserion and Rhaegal would let her mount them if the need arises. She didn’t want to be their rider that would be unfair to both of them and Drogon, she just wanted to see if they would take her on as a passenger.

But first, she promised she would meet Lady Olenna in her quarters.

The Queen of Thorns was waiting for her with a table full of fruits and sweets, cheeses and vines. She smiled and took the chair offered to her. She never expected the old lady standing up and bowing to her when she enters and was more than satisfied that the old woman bowed her head.

Lady Olenna looked eager now, almost mischievous.

“Eat up, Your Grace. I’m sure this would be the first time in the past weeks that you had a chance to taste some delicacies.”

“Quite true, My Lady.”

They ate a few cakes and cheese in silence. When they were done, a young man entered to room. He had curly brunet hair and a sweet smile. He was walking with a limp and with the help of a crutch.

“You must be Lord Willas Tyrell.” Daenerys said. “Please take a seat, don’t burden your leg for me.”

“Your Grace.” He inclined his head and sat down. “Thank you for rescuing us from Highgarden. If it weren’t for you, we would be there now alone, waiting for any inevitable siege to come.”

“Or you’d have some common sense and fled before they get there.” His grandmother replied, helping herself from the figs.

“Or that.” He said, without missing a beat.

Won’t argue against logical things. Smart man. They chatted a little. Lord Willas proved to be an excellent company. He was a scholar, something that Daenerys always needed and appreciated. His knowledge about battles from the past would be one of the most important councils she could get. He blushed when his grandmother revealed that he bred horses as a hobby.

“That’s quite a feat. My khalasar would be overjoyed to hear that. They respect man who knows his way around horses.”

After a few minutes of chatting. Lady Olenna introduced a few of her other relatives. Three pretty girls, dressed in even prettier dresses, curtsied perfectly to her and smiled beautifully.

“I wouldn’t want to overstep, but I couldn’t help but notice that you had no Ladies-in-waiting, Your Grace. I wanted to offer you one of them. Or you could take all three of them, if you want.”

Daenerys was a little speechless at the idea. She never had a Lady-in-waiting before and she told as much to the old woman. Lady Olenna just shrugged.

“They knew well enough what to do and what is expected of them, Your Grace.”

“Well then, it would be my pleasure to have you girls. We could write the royal decrees once I sit on the Iron Throne.”

All three of them curtsied and smiled excitedly. She knew that Olenna Tyrell was doing her best to charm her and secure the Tyrells strength at her side. Introducing her to her grandson, a potential King Consort and offering up three members of her family to her court. She liked someone who didn’t waste their time.

“If you would excuse me, my lord, my ladies.” She said, standing up. “I’ll have to take my leave now. It was a pleasure spending time with you.”

***

The dragons, of course, weren’t the biggest supporters of her idea to begin to start training the avoidance of spears. She was afraid that more of those scorpions would appear on land and she might encounter them during the siege of Highgarden. The Unsullied were a little baffled about her request of them throwing sticks at her and her dragons.

Many of them didn’t even dare to try, too afraid to hurt her. They calmed a little, when she revealed that she would wear the armor Queen Yara lent to her. She won’t use her own until it was time to fly out to battle. The lessons however needed to wait for tomorrow, since by the time she successfully communicated her wishes towards her sons and got their begrudged approval, it was already time for dinner.

Missandei accompanied her to the dinner with the dornish. Lady Ellaria took the chance and properly introduced her to her daughters. She liked them well enough, all of them showing a different facets of womanly beauty and strength, yet she couldn’t banish the thought of these people murdering their own kin from her mind. All that bloodshed for a war that was due in a few years anyway.

She passingly mentioned her wish to learn to fight and the way of self-defense. Two of the girls, Obara and Tyene jumped at the chance to teach her the way of the spear and the dagger. Just like the Tyrells, the dornish also wanted to gain favor at her, seemingly noticing her displeasure towards their past deeds.

All in all, the day was a success.

After she took her bath and Missandei brushed her hair, she was left alone in her chamber. Alone with the flames in the fireplace and the armor and sword next to her bed.

“Valar dohaeris.” She whispered, caressing the chest of the armor.

“Valar dohaeris.” Sliding her two fingers towards the tip of the blade.

“Valar dohaeris.” Letting the few droplets of blood fall into the fire.

The Ice Queen with the Crown of Wolves and Swords upon her head. Still smiling warmly.

The Mystery Girl with a sword like a needle. Still smirking mischievously.

Jon Snow atop a Wall of Ice. Still holding her close.

_Valar dohaeris, Daenerys Stormborn._


	6. Chapter 6

Four days passed in relative calm. All her days were the same. She would hold two War Councils, one in the morning, one in the evening. Other than that, she was out on the cliffs with her new teachers. Obara and Tyene taught her the basics of their weapons. The Unsullied taught her the way of the sword. The Dothraki helped her in archery. She trained with her dragons too.

Both Viserion and Rhaegal accepted her without a fuss. They even heeded some of her requests, but it wasn’t anything like she had with Drogon. When she mounted her largest son, their minds aligned and all of their decisions were shared. That was nowhere near the case with the other two.

They trained to avoid the blunt spears, but her advisors were too nervous that she might fall from the sharp turns and evades, so she stopped doing that until the first saddle was ready and she could use the boots of her armor to faster herself to the saddle.

On the morning of the fourth day, Lady Olenna said that they had something for her, so she went to their quarters right after breakfast.

“We made something for you, my dear.” The Queen of Thorns began to call her that and she had no objections. “You already had an armor for the battlefield. We made you an armor for the court.”

And what an armor they made. A dress the likes of which she had never seen before.

It was huge and light. The main body of the dress was black and it was designed to hug her figure until her mid thighs. From then on, it pooled to her feet like waterfall. The bust was richly embroidered with red. The dress had a soft black fabric reaching around her neck, leaving her shoulders free. From the middle of her arm, two long, open sleeves cascaded down till the ground, decorated with silver lances and black embroidery.

Then she noticed, that part of the sleeves seems to be red. She turned the dress around and felt her eyes widen breath get caught in her throat. On the back of the dress was an immense red dragon, made of different fabric. The body of the beast was at her hip, its long tail reaching the end of the dress and its head right between her shoulder blades. The wings were her sleeves. If she stretched out said sleeves, she could see the huge red wings take shape.

“This is…”

“I can tell by the look on your face that you like it.” The Queen on Thorns said amusedly, pleased by the fact that she liked the gist. “Go on. Try it on.”

Still not finding her voice, she nodded and went to change in the other room. Her three ladies-in-waiting helped her into the huge dress that would be the crown jewel of any courts. She adored it already. She quickly sent for Missandei, who became just as speechless as she was when she first entered.

“I think the timing couldn’t be better Your Grace. A ship was spotted on the horizon, bearing the Direwolf sigil of the Starks. The King in the North should arrive shortly.”

“Well then, my friend. A dress like this demands a matching hairstyle.”

The six of them chatted at the table while Missandei did her hair. Just for the sake of this dress, she allowed her friend to leave the good portion of her hair loosely. Missandei made a gentle crown of braids upon her head and fastened it with the two dragon wing shaped pins that Lady Olenna gifted her along with the dress.

“I think one look at you will be enough for this King in the North to suggest alliance by marriage.” Lady Olenna said, smirking.

Daenerys burst out laughing, yet for a single moment she entertained the idea. If Jon Snow really looked like the man from her vision, she wouldn’t even be against marrying him. His feats alone would make him a perfect spouse. Who knows, maybe that was the reason why the North would end up with the Ice Queen.

But now she had her duties first. She wouldn’t fall into the arms of a man until the war is won, maybe not even after that. Romance and marriage could wait until after she secured her reign and her people have begun their journey towards a better life.

She sent out Lord Tyrion and Missandei to welcome the Northern while she and her advisors took their places in the Great Hall of Dragonstone. She was quite eager to meet this King in the North and even curious about this enemy in the north that he was talking about in his letter. Any possible thret to her kingdoms could not be taken lightly.

When the doors opened and their eyes met, she felt her heart flutter in her chest. It seemed she had left him speechless too, because his foot had seemingly taken root at the doorway. Missandei and Tyrion took their places on her two sides and her friend began to list her titles.

“You stand in the presence of Queen Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Protector of the Realm, Queen of Dragonstone, Queen of Meereen, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, the Unburnt, Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons.”

She purposefully asked Missandei to leave out the “Lady of the Seven Kingdoms”. She left that one out in her letter too. This was her first offering of peace towards the North. If she didn’t declare herself a Queen of all the kingdoms, then she didn’t have to ask them to bend the knee just yet. She could bring it up to them, if she saw any signs of willingness, but not yet.

“This is Jon Snow… He is King in the North.”

She almost laughed at the poor, awkward advisor, but her mind was still occupied with this handsome young King. Now that he was this close to her, there was no doubt. He was the man in her vision. The man atop the Wall of Ice. Her heart fluttered happily in her chest. If she did things right, she might find a close confidante in this man.

“Welcome to Dragonstone, Your Grace.” She said, smiling. “I hope you had a safe journey.”

He seemed to let out a relieved breath. Maybe he thought she wouldn’t acknowledge his title. That hurt a little, but it was understandable, so she didn’t let her smile falter.

“Thank you Your Grace. The winds were kind.”

“I’m glad to hear that. Allow me to introduce you to my court. Lady Olenna Tyrell and her Grandson, Willas Tyrell of Highgarden. Lady Ellaria Sand and the Sand Snakes of Dorne. Lord Varys, My Master of Whisperers. Grey Worm, Commander of the Unsullied and Qhono, Commander of the Dothraki. Missandei of Naath, my Translator. And finally, Lord Tyrion Lannister of Casterly Rock, Hand of the Queen. Also, let me introduce you to my ally, Queen Yara Greyjoy, Queen of the Iron Islands and now acting as my temporary Master is Ships.”

She pitied the King for pushing all these names and titles upon him, but this had to be dealt with. At least she was sure that he already knew the majority of them, only needed to match the face with the names.

“Well met, my lords and ladies. Allow me to introduce you to Ser Davos Seaworth, Hand of the King.”

“A pleasure.” She said, sending a kind smile towards the older man, who has become less and less nervous since they started speaking. “I’m sure you are tired from your journeys. We’ve prepared quarters for you with baths and fresh food. We could begin the talks after you’ve rested.”

“Your Grace.” The King in the North spoke as soon as she began to stand up, halting her in the process. “We are thankful and accept your hospitality. However, we need to talk about something very important.”

She shared a look with Lord Tyrion before looking back towards King Jon.

“Does this have anything to do with this enemy you’ve mentioned in your letter?”

“Aye.”

“Go on then. We best not waste time.”

“There is a great enemy coming. An army that doesn’t tire and a general you cannot negotiate with. No other war matters, but the Great War and that is here. With us, the living against… an army of the dead.”

She felt her breath catch in her throat. She heard the skeptical and cynical remarks of her advisors, yet all she could see was a continent covered in a white blanket of snow, with countless corpses scattered in the ground. She saw a marching army of rot and bones, eyes lifelessly staring ahead. Woman, elderly and children along with boys and mans, mindless slaves to a soulless creature.

She saw men and women being slaughtered by living corpses, tearing them into pieces, their agonized cries muffled by the tremor of a hundred thousand feet. No matter where she turned, she saw them swarming, the hills, the valleys, even the mountains. They were climbing out of cracks, from under the snow and tearing into the living without an ounce of mercy.

She saw children crying and screaming inside darkness, fleeing in terror from enemies they did not anticipate. Horror shook her body while around her the tunnels were bathed in blood and gore, a reckless pursuit until the last fire went out and the last of the screams died down, giving way to darkness and silence.

She felt a wave of nausea wash over her.

_Valar dohaeris, Daenerys Stormborn._

“Your Grace, are you alright?”

When her vision came back, she saw the worried face of Tyrion Lannister, who was gripping one of her hands tightly, just like Missandei did with the other one. Blinking, she looked around, seeing more worried faces, among them this strange King in the North. As their eyes met, she knew he recognized the horror on her face, but didn’t know what to make of it yet. For the first time in her life, she felt her body go hotter than comfortable and sweat break out on her back, neck and temple.

“Get her some water!” Lord Tyrion quickly ordered. “Your Grace, please talk to us!”

His voice was so urgent she suddenly realized that they might’ve thought she was poisoned. Shaking her head, she let out a huge breath and began breathing properly, accepting the water from Missandei.

“I’m alright, don’t worry. Everything’s fine.”

She stood up with the help of Grey Worm and everyone went into her War Room, where the air was colder and fresher. She immediately felt better here. When she spoke, her voice was quiet.

“Please give me a few minutes with His Grace.” Despite their objections, she waved their voices away with a warm smile. “He came here to ask for help and my dragons are right outside. He won’t hurt me.” She leaned closer to her Hand and whispered. “Find the Red Priestess and send her to my room.”

He looked at her strangely, but nodded all the same. His grip on her hand tightened one last time and she returned the gesture. Once everyone but the King in the North was outside, she let out a shaking breath.

“Could you help me make a fire please?”

He obliged without a word. The two of them put some logs into the fireplace. She took a bunch of dry grass into her hand and instructed him to light it on fire. Seeing his baffled expression, she laughed a little and told him to not fear, because her ‘Unburnt’ title was supposed to be taken literally. He still hesitated, but her hesitation morphed into marvel when he saw that her hand was unharmed when she poked the flames with her own hands.

Once the two of them were seated at the Carved Table, which he looked at with the same marvel, and a cup of wine before each of them she spoke with a low and calm voice.

“I believe you, King Jon.”

“You do?” His face told her that he didn’t expect immediate belief in his claim. Which was fair, since it was quite a claim, but she was no ordinary woman either.

“I am a Dragon Rider from the Blood of Valyria and the line of Daenys the Dreamer. I might not be a prophet like her, but my dreams sometimes tell me things. I saw this army of the dead you speak of. An army of corpses, men, women and children. A dead continent under the blanket of ice and snow. Dead mean tearing the living apart with nowhere to run for us.”

He let out a slow, relieved breath. She couldn’t even imagine the relief he was feeling right now. He probably expected ridicule and disbelief. She couldn’t even imagine the nightmares he must’ve had about this meeting. Being forced to crawl in his knees for the help of a dismissing woman, so he can save the life of his people.

She put her hand on his and did a few reassuring circles with her thumb. No matter if this man was the ruler of her neighboring country, he looked like he could use some kind of old fashioned affectionate touch. He shot her a look so grateful, that her heart clenched at the sight.

“Is there any way to stop them?” She asked quietly.

“There is. They can be killed by fire, by dragon glass and by valyrian steel. My friend, Samwell Tarly is at the citadel, learning to be a maester. He found notes about dragon glass mines under Dragonstone.”

“We will begin its mining immediately. I have a dozen blacksmiths here, they can begin turning them into weapons too. We need to decide where to make our stand and evacuate the people from the danger as soon as possible.”

Noticing his frown, she tilted her head a little.

“What’s the matter?”

“I don’t think my lords and my people would leave the North Your Grace. The wars left them exhausted and wary of everyone but each other. Sometimes even wary of each other.” He sighed, looking at her apologetically. “Wouldn’t it be possible to make our stand at Winterfell?”

Daenerys hummed softly. Her advisors wouldn’t like this, even if they didn’t offer their armies to this war against the dead. Though she only just began to learn the tactical advantages of Westeros, it was obvious that they could defend more effectively against the dead at the Neck or in the Vale. The North may be huge, but it was a little barren, lacking a few tactical advantages for a battle like this, not to mention the climate would affect her soldiers.

“They couldn’t be persuaded, you say?”

“No Your Grace. At least, not at the moment. I told them that in order to survive, there is a possibility of us leaving the North for the duration of this war, but they wanted to hear none of it. Most of them would want to fight on their homeland, even if it means that they might be brought back as slaves after their death.”

This information staggered Daenerys a little.

“He can bring back those that fell? Even during the battle?”

He looked at her like he was pitying her. In any other situation, she would’ve bristled at the thought, but right then she almost felt like she was disconnected from her body. Her armies, her _friends and subjects, _reduced to rotting, mindless slaves. Motherly instinct kicked in at the next second, and she felt herself go pale. _Her children._

“Can they bring back anything? Or just humans?” Her question was so urgent that he jumped in his seat.

“Anything, as far as I know. Why?”

Just as he said that, Drogon roared outside, his call answered by his brothers. Since the two were left alone, her children circled the fortress, taking small glimpses inside, making sure their mother was alright. Realization spread on his face and he too has become even paler than before.

“Gods… I’ve never even thought of that.”

“Can they hurt them? Can they hurt my sons?”

“I don’t know Your Grace. Your… sons are magnificent. I only know that our Old Nan used to tell stories about these creatures. Not only the White Walkers, but their pale spiders, big as a hound and dragons of ice.”

She took a trembling breath and let it out carefully. They had to tread carefully, since this seemed to be a threat that couldn’t be solved by throwing as much fire at it, as possible.

“You sure your people can’t be persuaded?”

“Aye… I’m sorry.”

“Then we will make our first stand at Winterfell. You said fire kills them. We’ll get barrels of pitch to your walls and we can have traps made of wildfire on the field. A few good archers could light them up. My Lord Hand would tell you that the explosion is all consuming. We’ll send the first dragon glass weapons to Winterfell, until everyone that wants to fight would be armed with them. I happen to have captured five hundred ships recently. I’m sure Queen Yara could be convinced to part with at least fifty of them for a nice sum.”

“I would love to say that the North would pay for it, but the wars-“

Daenerys stopped him with her hand raised.

“It’ll be my gift. This isn’t a threat to the North alone. My Kingdoms will face it too eventually. If you fall and the dead march south, I would have to face them alone. I also know about the great losses the North has suffered, I wouldn’t ask you anything now, at the dawn of winter.”

When he opened his mouth, she quickly followed it up.

“Let me be clear with you, King in the North. I won’t demand that you bend the knee in exchange for my help. When my war with Cersei is over, I’ll have five, possibly six kingdoms to feed, though I have yet to hear from the Vale. I’ll need money and gold to do that. However, once my people have been taken care of, if anything remains, I can lend it to you for the duration of this winter, if you’d be willing to pay it back to me once the North has recovered.”

She saw the wonder in his eyes. She knew this gaze. At some point in every relationship she has, the other person will look at her like they cannot believe she exists. It always made her feel a little uncomfortable. She isn’t some kind of phenomenon, just a woman who wanted to leave the world in a better place than she found it.

“Your Grace, I don’t even know what to say.” He confessed, still baffled.

“Say your thanks and go take a rest, Your Grace. I invite you and your Hand to dinner with me and mine, so we can iron out this pact and see what each of us can bring to the table and what will be expected of them.”

“Thank you, Your Grace. Truly. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet, King Jon.” She said, closing her eyes, trying to chase away the nightmarish picture of a dead and barren continent. “Don’t thank me yet. Besides, I know you said that no other war matters besides this, but I’m hope you can understand that I need to finish my own battles before direct all of my forces to Winterfell. If I just drop everything and leave, my enemies would get a significant advantage and I don’t even want to know what that would mean to the people.”

He nodded his head, understanding.

“I know one or two things about warfare. I wouldn’t ask of you to give your enemies a chance to recuperate. I just hope we’ll have enough time to prepare.”

Daenerys looked upon her carved table.

“I won’t rush my wars, Your Grace. It would be a nasty surprise, being decimated by the living after we defeated the dead.”

***

The dinner was held at the Great Hall. The grand table they usually used was more than enough to seat all of them. Daenerys sat at the middle on the side of her Throne, King Jon sat across her with his Hand to his right. All of Daenerys’s advisors were present, looking as civil as they can with another ruler beside their own at the table.

Before the feast, Daenerys made it clear that the King in the North would be addressed with his proper title and she wouldn’t tolerate anyone acting unwelcome to him. She was a ruler who had her dignity and politeness.

Missandei helped her choose a pitch black dress of the essosi style, along with a blood red cape with and a silver pin. Her hair was back to her usual tight braids. Now she needed it more than ever. It seemed like the war she only just began to turn to her tide was simply the beginning.

Now, she had to address the fact that she offered her supports to this foreign king.

“I believe King Jon about this army of the dead and I intend to help him fight and win this Great War.”

A cacophony of noises and objections consumed the table, everyone fearing for her safety and expressing their disbelief. It was clear that no one but herself believed that the White Walkers were real and they suspected some kind of plot to kill her before she could go and take over their land.

“Killing me under the false pretense of alliance would be foolish, since my armies and dragons would be there with us. If I would die, they would ravage the North until no soul was left alive.”

Qhono raised his cup at this, his smile promising terrible resolve to anyone who would deceive and hurt his Khaleesi. The King and his Hand were looking at each other with worry, yet spared some nervous glances to her court as well.

“All of you are here because I promised you vengeance and retaliation for your suffering. I intend to keep my promise. Euron Greyjoy might still be in the wind, but he will be hunted down in due time. The Lannister army would be met on the battlefield and it will be dealt with. Cersei has no allies, no gold, no food and soon, she’ll have no army. The dornish and Tyrell army will lay siege on the city, following the plan me and My Lord Hand worked out. Our victory is near.”

“Just a month ago you were worried about the whereabouts of Euron Greyjoy, fearing that he might bring more enemy for us to fight, allies for Cersei. What changed?”

“I left Cersei with only one piece on the board. Even if Euron Greyjoy went to retrieve a sell sword army, they have nothing to pay them with.”

“What if they take a loan from the Iron Bank?”

“They can’t. The Crown is drowning in debt and Cersei has no gold. I, on the other hand still have treasuries in Meeren. Investing in Cersei would be a foolish move since I’ve won all of my battles so far. And we all know that the Iron Bank does not make foolish moves.”

At this, everyone quieted down, looking at their plates or at each other with worried glances. Daenerys sighed and absentmindedly reached out to a candle flame on the table that was almost calling on her, completely missing the looks of amazement she received from everyone around the table. This was the first time for many of them witnessing her immunity to fire.

“I’ll be honest with all of you. Since I put my foot on this land, my dreams are restless with visions. I see barren and dead wastelands, dead people sitting watch in empty castles and cottages all the same. At first I thought that my dreams are telling me that the winter would be exceptionally long and I’d need to prepare for it as soon as possible. But now I know.”

She pulled back her hand and sighed.

“My dreams have never deceived me before and I don’t intend to ignore them now. I won’t force any of you to join me in the North. Your battles will end when I take the Iron Throne. But any kind of help would be greatly appreciated and reciprocated if I survive the Great War.”

The silence was long and heavy. Her allies looked at each other, contemplating her words. As always Lady Olenna was the first to speak.

“The Reach will help you with food. I won’t have my queen and her armies starve in a war that the King in the North claims to be essential to our survival.”

“You’ll have a good portion of my fleet too. Offers easier and faster travel.” Queen Yara said with a reassuring smirk.

“Dorne will not turn their back on the Silver Queen either. We’ll send food and provide weapons too.”

Both she and Jon Snow stood up.

“Thank you all. This means the world to us.”

***

Sitting in her chamber, she didn’t even turn around when a gentle knock was heard on the door. She bid them entrance, but turns out it wasn’t the Red Woman whom she was expecting, but Lord Varys. She welcomed him inside all the same and offering him a seat at her small table. Just from the look on his face she figured why he came looking for her.

“You are worried that I’ll go down the same road as Stannis.” She said, without dancing around the issues.

Lord Varys sighed.

“Prophecies, magic, destinies. Those are dangerous paths Your Grace.”

She offered him a soft smile and put her hand on his.

“Lord Varys, I promise you. I’ll never put these things above the wellbeing of my people. I asked you to tell me if I’m failing them in any way. Tell me, did I give you a reason for doubt? Disappointed your expectations?”

“Oh, quite the contrary, Your Grace. You exceeded all of my expectations. Would the King in the North never show up with his tale about the army of the dead, I’d never even brought it up. I cannot help, but worry, Your Grace. That red woman was the same who got into Stannis Baratheon’s head and poisoned his mind, leading to his downfall.”

“I know. Lord Tyrion told me. But the thing is, my visions existed long before I came in contact with this red woman. You were beside my father when he slipped into madness. They say, he heard voices about treachery, causing his sick paranoia. Am I anything like my father?”

He sighed, clearly and unpleasant memory to address.

“No, Your Grace. You cannot be further from him. But he didn’t start mad either. He was an excellent king at first.”

Daenerys nodded. One part of her bristled at his implication that she might end up anything like her father, but one glance at the candle’s flame brought forward another vision of hers. A throne room destroyed, covered in ash. It seems that the possibility for her to go mad was there. But it was there for everybody. The famous Targaryen Madness was only so famous because they were rulers and their madness affected the Seven Kingdoms too.

The other part of her didn’t want to invalidate his concerns. One look at him and she noticed his fear, though he tried to hide it. He feared that he would lose another great ruler to visions and voices. That another ruler would succumb to madness and this one had three large dragons.

She sighed, noticing that she had been silent for a while now.

“You are right, my lord. It seems I might’ve lost myself a little. I apologize, if I gave you a scare. I’ll see Lady Melisandre tonight, but after that, I won’t involve myself with her anymore. As a ruler, I need to keep my head clear.”

He let out a breath and she saw his shoulders relaxing. His wariness hurt her, but she reminded herself that they’d only known each other for a few months personally and he has already been burned once. She just has to prove him wrong about his fears.

Besides, he was right in some way. The voice and visions she experienced began to sway her in one direction since the King in the North arrived. She would go to a flight tomorrow, clear her head in the clouds with Drogon and focus on the real, tangible things around her. She still had a war to win and despite their supernatural nature, the army of the dead was just another foe they needed to defeat.

No prophecies there. No destiny. Just them doing their best.

“I apologize too, Your Grace.” Lord Varys said, bowing his head. “I let myself be caught up in the fears of the past. I hope I didn’t offend you in any way.”

“You didn’t Lord Varys. If you have any concerns, please come to me. None of us are mind readers and I’m told communication is the best way to avoid misunderstandings.”

He stood then, bowed and took his leave, seemingly reassured for now. Daenerys walked over to her armor and caressed the cheek of the helmet. She would need a valyrian steel sword on her own, but where to find them? All of the swords are lost or have an owner already.

_Valar dohaeris, Daenerys Stormborn._

“I will, so stop insisting.” She hissed, annoyed with the voice for the first time.

“He doesn’t mean to command you, Your Grace. He just wants to help you understand.” The voice of Lady Melisandre came from her doorway.

The red priestess looked much better than she did on the day of her arrival. Her skin gained a healthy pinkness, her hair turned into the color of fire and rich wine, eyes so brown they almost gleamed red. Even her stance was less guarded and her posture became eased.

“You look better, my lady.”

“It is your fire that sustained me back to health, Your Grace. Simply being in your presence, in your stronghold feeds the fire inside of me.”

Daenerys raised a suspicious eyebrow and turned away from her armor.

“Glad I could be of service. I wanted to talk to you about this army of the dead.”

“They are the servants of the Great Other, Your Grace, enemy of my lord, R’Hllor.”

“Can we defeat them?”

Melisandre looked lost for a second, her eyes finding the flames of the fireplace.

“I couldn’t say, Your Grace. I only see glimpses of the battle, but not the victor.”

Daenerys frowned and walked over the fireplace herself, staring into the flames. She saw more than pictures. She saw failures. Dothraki on the frontlines, charging with flaming arakhs into the night, only to be decimated by the enemy. A single trench that refused to light on fire. Unsullied soldiers, outside the walls of a castle, before the trench, being cut off of retreat and reinforcements. Corpses crawling over the walls with no one to stop them. Ancient corpses crawling out of tombs, attacking women and children locked inside with them.

“Your Grace.”

Startled, she looked away from the flames and gazed into the almost red eyes of Lady Melisandre, that held eagerness and awe.

“I’m sorry. For how long was I…”

“About six minutes.” The priestess said. “You see it. You have natural full visions. That is a power even our Arch Priestesses study for centuries. He grants you visions of a possible future to guide your way.”

“All I saw was failures.”

“Then you can avoid those failures when the time comes.”

Daenerys shook her head and sat down on her bed. She was wary now and afraid. Afraid that her mind would be consumed by visions and voices, sinking into paranoia, just like her father did. A gentle hand was laid upon her shoulder and the priestess kneeled down before her.

“He doesn’t want to torture you, Daenerys Stormborn. He wants to help you. Save you. You are strong, far stronger than anyone I have ever encountered. Learn to accommodate to his insight. Treat it as a warning and not a future that could come to pass.”

The power was appealing, that was certain. Being able to take a single glimpse into the fire and find out if her worries are valid or not. The consequences of her actions. She could never be surprised by assassins, if she saw them coming from miles away. She could save countless life with just a few glimpses.

But she didn’t want this power to consume her.

“But what if I’m not strong enough? Will I turn into the Mad Queen, like my enemies predicted?”

“You are strong enough, Your Grace. Don’t let the chains of other’s sins hold you down. You are your own person. You didn’t come here on behalf of the claims of your ancestors, you came here to make your own. Anything that happened before is a cautionary tale. Anything that you see in the flames is a nudge to the right direction. You could be great. The greatest.”

“No, stop.” Her voice was firm and she stood up. “I will not hear about destinies and such. I am strong and I am weak. I need to know my weaknesses to set my boundaries.” She began to walk towards her balcony. “Thank you for your council, Lady Melisandre. I’ll call you when I need you.”

The red priestess curtsied and left without a complaint, only addressing her with a soft ‘Your Grace’. She went to the balcony and took in a huge breath of fresh air. Drogon flew over to her tower and slowly lowered himself, grabbing the edges of the fortress. His immense head was lowered to her and she caressed it eagerly, planting kisses under his eyes and whispering to him promises or love.

“My dear son, your mother is so lost.” She confessed. “I don’t want to lose myself in this strange magic. Just a few glimpses could sway me to the wrong path.”

He preened at her and began to nudge her towards his back.

“It’s too late, my son. We’ll fly tomorrow, I promise.”

But Drogon was insistent. If she wanted to step back, he cried and nestled closer to the tower, bringing the danger of damaging the structure. Letting out a defeated sigh, she climbed onto his back. He was in the air as soon as she was safely settled on him. He took her to the cliffs where he usually slept with his brothers. Viserion and Rhaegal greeted her with delighted chirps.

“Alright grumpy, I admit. This really helps.” She laughed and caressed her sons, feeling her love towards them fill her insides and chase away her worries.

His eldest had something other in mind. He began to blow fire to a single spot and urged his brothers to do the same. Daenerys did not understand at first, but the three dragons gestured towards the flames with their heads. Drogon leaned close, his head next to her body and leaned into her touch.

“What do you…by the gods!”

Just as she touched her eldest and gazed into the fire, she saw a huge panorama take shape in the human sized flames. She saw a city so long that it seemingly touched the horizon and the skies. Smoke was rising from the streets, but everything was ruled by silence. She knew what she was seeing.

“Valyria.”

One of the towers was shown so closely that she felt like she could touch it if she put her hands in the flames. Reaching out towards the gigantic structure, she gasped. The picture changed, showing her the insides of a treasury, packed to the brim with gold and precious jewels, untouched by anyone for the past three hundred years. It was so much, she could have cowered the entire debt of the Iron Throne and more.

The picture changed again, showing her another treasury, just as full as the first one, but this one had something else inside too. Swords. Dozens of them. She didn’t needed to be told that those were valyrian steel.

“Everything we could ever need.” She said, amazed.

The last picture brought tears to her eyes. At the center of another full treasury stood tree stone nestles.

With one dragon egg on each.


	7. Chapter 7

She didn’t tell anybody about her visions. The next morning, she met with the King in the North and began to make plans to fashion the first portion of the dragon glass into spears, daggers and arrow heads. Queen Yara gave them ten ships to work with for now. After all, her fleet had to protect both Dragonstone and prepare to lay siege to Blackwater Bay.

Daenerys practiced through the majority of the day. She was in the middle of her sword lessons, when Lord Tyrion came looking for her, saying that her special guest had arrived. She stooped her exercises and dried her temples.

“I’ll meet him in a minute.”

“Don’t you want to change into something more… queenly?”

“I am a Conqueror Queen, my Lord Hand. Trousers and chainmail match my eyes, don’t you think?”

Her guest was waiting for her in her War Room, studying her Carved Table. She walked in, sword on her belt, her long silver hair tied into a tight braid, and a long cape on her back. He stood, but did not bow. She didn’t expect him to do so. So was the way of the Iron Bank.

“Queen Daenerys.”

“Lord Nestoris. Thank you for making this short derail for my sake.”

Both of them sat and Missandei brought refreshments, sweets, cheese and dried fruit on a plate. The man eyed the delicacies with interest. This was a show of wealth. Indicating that she could follow up on her word, if they can get to an agreement.

“Your letter was quite convincing, Your Grace. You said you’d want to begin to pay the debt of the Crown you have yet to earn, and predicted the intentions and failings of Queen Cersei.”

“It wasn’t a hard nut to crack, to be honest. She needed food and gold, I needed food and gold. I was faster. I suppose she wanted to buy the services of the Golden Company with the Tyrell’s gold.”

“That she did.”

“Yet now she has no was to pay them or you. I know your institution likes the clarity of numbers My Lord, so let’s speak numbers. How much does the crown own you?”

“Twelve million gold dragons, Your Grace.”

Daenerys hummed, seemingly unfazed. Lord Tyrion predicted as much, so this wasn’t news to her. Taking a gentle sip from her wine, she thought for a few seconds.

“I can make a deal about me paying third of it now and the rest after I’ve taken the crown. I’ll need some of my money, since I plan to hire the Golden Company myself. I want to make my victory as secure as possible.”

The man thought about it for a few minutes and then hummed.

“How about this. You pay us half of the sum now, and we’ll hire the Golden Company for you for a whole year.”

Daenerys smirked.

“Smart move. That way if I happen to find my demise on the battlefield, you’ll already have half of your money and you can command the Golden Company to sack Westeros for the rest.”

They grinned at each other, sharp and bloodthirsty. She saw that she had impressed him. Banks loved people who understood their language and didn’t try to weasel their way out of situations. She spoke with Ser Davos this morning about what to expect from the Iron bank, since he and Stannis Baratheon had already to make a deal with them.

The old smuggler said that she should make an offer of immediate payment and then work herself up from there. In his experience, as long as the Iron Bank got his due, they didn’t care about what happens to any realm. They would abandon Cersei for her in a heartbeat if they saw that she was true to her word, thus the more likely to pay them their due.

“Then how about this? I pay you now one third, then from two months from now on, I’ll pay another third, regardless if I have the crown or not. In exchange, we halve the cost of the Golden Company. I’ll even provide the majority of ships necessary to carry them here.”

This got his attention.

“Are you expecting income in the future, Your Grace?”

She smirked and leaned a little closer.

“Let that be my secret. You’ll have your money anyway. Let me worry about the how and let us talk about the when. Would this offer please the Iron Bank, My Lord?”

“So if I understand clear. We get four million now, four million two months from now and the rest when you take your crown. In exchange, we pay half of your expenses at the Golden Company.”

“That is exactly what I said.”

“I’ll make the papers in a few hours.”

“Wonderful. We shall sign them tonight at dinner. Then you can choose to enjoy my hospitality for as long as you like, but I want my army to be here by the end of the next month.”

He grinned and stood, offering his hand.

“I’ll keep that in mind, Your Grace.”

***

The King in the North met her on the stairs leading up towards the fortress. She was looking at her dragons, fishing and enjoying the sunlight and the water. When the heavy steps approached her, she felt a smile tug at her lips. Even his steps were different from the ‘southerners’. He walked like the weight of the world was resting on his shoulders. She supposed that likely have been the case until a few days prior, when she promised her support.

“Your Grace.” He greeted, his voice gruff.

“Your Grace.” She replied, not turning away from her sons. “How are the mines? Any progress? Do you need anything?”

“We have everything we need and the progress is remarkable. I’ve just been to the forge. They began to produce these.”

He handed over three things to her. An arrowhead, made of metal and dragon glass. It was her idea. Infusing the dragon glass between two halves of the arrowhead. Since the King said that the amount doesn’t seem to matter, this way they could produce even more and recycle a good portion of their already existing stocks. Same was the case with the daggers and the lance tips. The tip of the arrow remained steel to cut through any rags the dead might be wearing while the end of the arrow was made of dragonglass, carrying the magic necesarry for a fatal blow.

“How does it hold?” She asked, still examining the weapons.

“It’s more resilient than the pure ones. Your idea was a grand success, Your Grace.”

“Thank you, Your Grace. I aim to please.”

Both of the chuckled and turned back to the dragons.

“I spoke with the representative of the Iron Bank today. We made a deal about my soon to be debt and he agreed to pay half of the expenses of the Golden Company. Twenty thousand men, horses and war elephants. I believe, along with my hundred thousand Dothraki and eight thousand Unsullied, we have a chance against an army of… how much was it?”

“We don’t know the exact number, but the last estimate was around two hundred thousand.”

“Yes.” She said, her throat tight. “That.”

The King in the North looked at her with gratitude and respect.

“Your Grace, this is so much more than I ever hoped to achieve here. Your help means everything to us and every living creature on this continent that cannot hope to protect themselves. The North will stay true to our agreement.”

“Thirty years is a long time, King Jon. I might be ashes in thirty years. But I’m glad to hear that you are true to your world, just as they say about you.”

Thirty years. That was the agreement. She agreed to fight for them, buy another, well rested, powerful army for them and feed them once the need arises, while covering the pitch, the wildfire and anything else they might come up with and couldn’t be produced naturally. In exchange, after the winter, the North promised to pay her crown six million golden dragons in coin or labor, to repay her losses. They were given thirty years to do that. According to her advisors, that is more than reasonable, gracious even. Should ever the need arise to protect her lands and people, the North would help her and in exchange, some of its debt will be forgiven, depending on the situation.

“Why did you never ask me to bend the knee?” He blurted out, then immediately became red in the face. “I mean, you could’ve. It would’ve been more than reasonable.”

“It interests you, doesn’t it?” She chuckled and turned to him. “I know the North has suffered, just like every other kingdom did. But you liberated your home and won it back with a bloody price. Your people chose you, because they love you. Across the narrow sea, they smile at me wherever I go, because they chose me. They call me ‘Mhysa’. Do you know what that means?”

He shook his head.

“It means Mother. I am the Mother of Dragons and Mhysa of People. A mother might be strict, but at the end of the day, all she wants is to protect and nurture. That’s all I want. To help people heal and grow strong. Taking the crown is secondary. I need the power so I can help.”

“That doesn’t explain why you didn’t ask us to kneel.”

She chuckled at him, earning a baffled expression.

“They already have a Father to take care of them. A King they chose. If the people are happy, I am happy. It’s just that simple.”

A boy was running up at the stairs, the same boy that presented her the new sword. His face was flustered from excitement and broke into a grin as soon as he saw her.

“Your Grace…s! It is ready!”

Daenerys felt excitement bubble in her chest. So it’s ready. She turned towards the confused King in the North and said.

“Tell me, King Jon. Do you want to see a Dragon Rider?”

***

It took a lot of convincing to get Drogon into the forge. The only reason her son was willing to allow a saddle on his back was the fact that this way he could be just as agile as his brothers, even when his mother was on his back. Viserion and Rhaegal were outside, eager to go and stretch out their wings in the skies. Daenerys said that as soon as the saddle was ready, she would go to Highgarden and see the preparation for the battle be done herself.

Both the saddle and the armor had been through several trial and error during the fabrication process, so when the final saddle will be ready, she could go immediately. She told Queen Yara that she and eight hundred ships will go to Braavos and bring the Golden Company here. Lady Olenna offered to pay the third of the debt and for the company now, saying Daenerys could pay them back any time. This way they didn’t need to make a trip to Meeren too. In about two months, they should be already back and on their way to Winterfell.

One hundred of those ships will break off from the rest and go wait for Daenerys at the entrance of the Valyrian ruins. Daenerys intended to take that gold from the treasury she had seen, along with as many valyrian steel weapons as possible. And of course, the eggs.

Her armor was brought down to the forge. Grey Worn helped her dress and Missandei carried her helmet. She was now whispering to Drogon keeping him calm while the blacksmiths worked to get the saddle on him. It was light. The restriction was reduced to the possible minimum without sacrificing safety.

The forge was a cacophony of shouts. Everyone was eager to get things ready, not wanting to annoy the dragon further. Drogon’s tail was still smashing around like a cat’s, luckily only breaking a single worktable, but not damaging any weapons or equipment.

“_Just a few minutes dear. Then we can soar together on the sky and you can show off as much as you want.”_

“We are ready! Get back!”

The people inside retired to safe distance. Drogon shook his chest a little, getting used to the feeling. He let out an annoyed screech, but Daenerys knew this was just his grumpiness talking. Since her cape was already fastened to her gloves, she took a deep breath and put on the helmet. On her waist hung her temporary sword, _Mother. _

Stepping on Drogon, her chest was pumping with excitement. She didn’t understand why she was this excited. This wasn’t the first time she had flown into a battle. But this was the first time she felt like a Dragon Rider from the old times.

The saddle was comfortable enough, eased with leather and fur. There were two metal rods she could hold onto, when she wasn’t guiding his son by his spikes at the end of his neck. Next, she secured, her belt on both sides. Clasps and chains secured her in the saddle, so she wouldn’t fall even if she was upside down. Her boots clicked into place smoothly. Turning back, she fastened the end of her long cape to the edge of the saddle, so if she _would_ turn upside down, the cape wouldn’t pull on her armor.

Letting out a last breath, she grinned and caressed her son’s neck.

“Alright dear. _Soves._”

***

Outside the cave curiosity and excitement warred inside Jon Snow. He felt like he was living one of his childhood stories. A Targaryen Dragon Rider set out to conquer kingdoms, getting ready for battle. He only saw the dragons from the distance before. The two smaller ones were circling around his head at the very moment.

When he first laid eyes on this Dragon Queen, she took his breath away. She was tiny and beautiful. Then she spoke and she was so kind and respectful, despite their shared family history. She respected his title and called him King, worked out a more than generous deal with him in order to let them keep their independence and never once did she call him mad.

She was a marvel. A sharp and resourceful mind who was driven by the desire to help people. Everyone in her court spoke about her like she was the Mother walking on earth and at this point, Jon wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case.

And now this gorgeous and kind little queen would go and mount Balerion The Dread Reborn and show Fire and Blood to her enemies. Enemies, who choose to oppress and drain everyone less fortunate than them, destroying countries in their squabbles.

“I feel like I’m dreaming.” Ser Davos confessed next to him. “A true Dragon Rider is about to show up from that place.”

Jon nodded his understanding. The Forge of Dragonstone was like an enormous cave. From the outside, it looked like a dark maw, ready to swallow everything with its bottomless throat. Sometimes he heard the huge black beast screech in annoyance inside. A storm of voices and screams were audible, but none of it was panicking. The blacksmiths were saddling a dragon.

It wasn’t only Jon and his Hand on this cliff that allowed clear view to the mouth of the forge. Daenerys’s whole council showed up, even the representative of the Iron Bank came here, looking curious. No doubt interested in the Queen they invested in.

Everyone was waiting with baited breath, no one was speaking.

Then an even louder shriek rolled over the fortress. And silence. The noise of the waves was the only thing that broke the silence of the island. A whole minute passed, but no other voice emerged from the mouth.

When the head showed up, Jon Snow, King in the North and Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, felt his blood run cold. It was huge, bigger than a horse. The beast reached out with its wings and clawed at the entrance on both sides, sliding out from the darkness like a gigantic snake. It took a few steps to get completely outside. Its huge tail, a deadly weapon in itself, was smashing round like an annoyed cat.

And on its back was a dark figure.

She was tiny on her dragon, yet immediately noticeable. The saddle they made for the beast was barely visible under her. Her dark cape rolled on the scales like pitch. She took a glance at them, before the dragon roared and ran a few steps, testing out its movements. Then, without any sign, it opened two enormous wings and jumped.

And the Dragon Rider was off to conquer.


	8. Chapter 8

Drogon adored the saddle.

It was a ridiculous thought, yet it was true. Her eldest loved the thought of his mother sitting safely on his back. He didn’t need to be so careful anymore. Maneuvering in sharp angles, he roared victoriously every time Daenerys laughed in sheer excitement. She was miles in the skies and she was upside down.

The saddle worked marvelously. She was secured so tightly by her waist, her heels and her cape, that she couldn’t possibly fall. Even if one clasp would fail, the others will carry her without a problem. Her cape, despite its end being fastened to the saddle behind her, moved just as easily as before.

On her waist, _Mother_ had a leather belt around the cross-guard, keeping it from falling out, but accessible enough for her to draw the sword fast if needed. The only thing that bothered her was the belt under her chin that kept the helmet in its place. It was tight and little uncomfortable, but she rather endure that then losing a piece of her protection.

She reached Highgarden in the dark of the night. The walls were manned properly and they noticed the sounds of her sons. Dothraki Riders screamed from the top of their lungs as she made a turn above the castle, remaining in the saddle as if she was one with her son. She landed outside, legs and arms a little stiff, but miles better than in the past, when she had to ride for almost a full day without equipment.

When Drogon landed outside the castle, it took her a few minutes to get out of the saddle, but once she was on the ground, she kissed the dragon’s snout.

“You were magnificent, my dear. All of you.”

“_Khaleesi!”_

She chuckled.

“Go, hunt some animals for dinner, but remember. No humans.” She said as sternly as any mother could.

She was sure that if her son would be human, he would’ve rolled his eyes, because she told him this every time they landed outside of Dragonstone. They were so well behaved that she began to doubt that the corpse of the child was his doing in the first place. But better be safe and sorry. Once they took off to hunt, she pulled down her helmet and smiled at her soldiers.

“_Blood of my blood. I’m glad to see you. Has everything been in order?”_

_“Everything you ordered Khaleesi. Lamb People fed and taken care of. No harm come to them. Palace ready for protection. Riders know their task. Everything ready for two days now.”_

She smiled and mounted the white horse they brought to her, so she can ride back along with them. She put the helmet on the saddle and pushed her fingers into her hair a little, letting the air cool down her scalp. Her braid was nicely done, it held out without inconvenience under the metal helmet.

“_Good. Send out for White Flea. I’ll meet with him in the morning. I want to talk to the Lamb People, make sure there isn’t anything they didn’t dare to address. Tonight, I want to feast with you, Blood of my Blood.”_

_“It’ll be done Khaleesi. How many horses should we roast?”_

_“No horses tonight. I long for those the Lamb People call cows. Give ten golden dragons to a Lamb Man and bring three cows for roasting. Today, we drink until we pass out!”_

Thundering cheers were her answers. The feast was amazing and she loved spending time with her people. Her riders looked at her metal suit with wonder and a little cynicism, but when she ordered them to shoot an arrow at her cape and said cape stopped the arrow, they cheered even louder.

They fought to amuse her, though knowing she didn’t like killing, they only cut each other’s hair. They entertained her with stories and everyone drunk until, as promised, the majority of them passed out. Even Daenerys was wasted in the tent pitched especially for her, but her maids helped her take a bath and took care of her hair.

Next morning, she felt like shit. Her head was pounding, but she was happy that she could spend this night with her soldiers. There was no telling who would survive the clash with the Lannisters, even if the plans reduced causalities as much as possible.

White Flee was waiting before her tent when she emerged in her armor, hair already done into a tight Dothraki braid. One of her handmaids, Illia was carrying her helmet.

“_My Queen.”_ He said, kneeling.

”_My trusted General. Rhodo tells me everything is in order.”_

_“It is, my queen.”_

_“Thank you for your work, my friend. The Master of Whisperers says that the enemy could arrive any minute. I saw their camp last night. They didn’t notice me in the darkness. I say, they could be here tomorrow.”_

_“We are ready any minute.”_

_“Good. Now I’ll go see your soldiers, then we shall go to the small folk and see how they fare. I want to talk to them personally.”_

Her soldiers were delighted to see her, even if many of the Unsullied worried about her being on the battlefield. Their moral was high and they knew their job. Meeting the small folk was a little harder. Everyone was wary of her at first. A Dragon Rider Queen, in armor as dark as pitch, who came with three dragons.

She addressed them on the market.

“My name is Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen. Your Liege Lady, Lady Olenna Tyrell put all of you in my care until the Lannisters have been defeated in battle. You need not to fear me or my armies. They may look scary and foreign, since they came from Essos. I’m sure you all heard different types of tales about them during your life. I tell you, there is nothing to fear. We’ll be expecting a siege soon, but until then, carry on as you usually do. When the time of the battle comes, all of you will be inside the castle, where you’d be the safest. Until then, if any of you needs for anything, come to find me. We shall see if anything can be done about it.”

From the crowd, one woman stepped forward. She was old, possibly in her sixties and despite her clear wariness, she spoke with a clear voice.

“Your Grace. You sent out our sons and husbands to lay siege in the capital, yet now claim that the Lannisters are marching here. Why didn’t you let them fight for their home?”

Daenerys smiled at the woman.

“What is your name?”

“Wyla, Your Grace.”

“I’ll be honest with you Wyla. The Reach has taken its fair share of losses in the War of the Five Kings. Your sons and husbands are freshly militated soldiers. I sent them there, because the siege of King’s Landing will go down without a battle. I brought my battle seasoned soldiers here, so we can reduce casualties and you can see said sons and husbands in half a year, at most.”

As she said this, many faces cleared of worry and some people even let out sighs of relief. They’ll see their families again, while they will be protected at the same time. No one would prefer their loved ones dying for their home, when they have the chance to come back, just as healthy as they left.

“Thank you Your Grace!”

“Seven’s blessing on you, Your Grace!”

“Take care in the battle!”

Daenerys smiled and stepped back onto her horse’s saddle. As she went back into the castle, the road was aligned with happy people, smiling and cheering for her. It was amazing, how quickly their mood and thoughts could change. Naturally, she saw a few skeptical faces still, but she had won the masses favor.

“_Send out scouts. I want to know how far they are exactly.”_

_“It’ll be done, my queen.”_

***

The next morning, the Lannister army was already amassing its lines outside the castle. Daenerys told her sons very sternly that they mustn’t fly nor make a sound until they are ready to fly out. The enemy doesn’t know that they are here, and they better keep it that way.

The arrogance of lions was truly something to behold, they didn’t even send out anyone to treaty. They just ordered the castle and the town below to surrender to the army of the Rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and give out the ‘traitorous Tyrell family’. From one of the lower windows, she took count of their sigils.

Lannisters or course and surprisingly, the Tarly’s of Hornhill along with some other minor houses of the Reach and the Westerlands. The people were already inside the castle. She turned towards the fireplace, alive with flames and took a long look. It didn’t snow her the battle, only the same glimpse of a small hill, over and over again.

“_I’ll fly out now. Begin the plan.”_

_“At once, my queen.”_

As she hurried towards Drogon on the other side of the castle, she put on her helmet and fastened its belt under her chin. By the time she stepped out to the garden when her son was waiting for her, she already heard the battle cries of the Lannisters. One thousand men from her khalasar rained arrows on their enemy, while the rest of them waited behind a smaller hill to the right side of the castle on horseback for her to take off once White Flee blows the horn.

All of the Unsullied except two hundred that was left to protect the civilians marched out to meet the Lannisters on the field, moving with such synchronized ease that it created the illusion of a hive mind between her soldiers. As soon as the Lannisters began to charge with their heavy cavalry, White Flea blew his horn.

Drogon took off with a thunderous roar, his mother already fastened safely in the saddle. His brothers screeched and followed his example. At the same time, the Dothraki light cavalry started to charge with whoops and battle cries. Daenerys urged her sons to a fast attack, intending to torch the ground between the two armies before their forces could meet and before they had the chance to bring out any scorpions they might have.

Drogon was fast as lightening, cowering the field in flame from one side, Rhaegal doing the same from the other. The three dragons took off then, high into the sky, doing their best to make the enemy’s aim miserable. During a high and slower turn, while she was leaned to one side, she examined the battlefield. The horses of the enemy were buckling and running in every direction. Her blood riders flanked the foot soldiers from one side, though they had a little difficulty with the armor, even with the training they did before.

She searched for any indication of scorpions. There wasn’t any near the army, but she spotted something akin to a cart behind one smaller hill. She recognized the hill immediately. A perfect spot to aim high.

“We need to take it out.” She muttered, grabbing Drogon’s spikes.

On her way here, they were exercising instructions. Drogon had a trick created for occasions like this. He would break his charge with closing one of his wings, creating a huge loop around his own axis. A shot that would be deadly will miss for sure.

She urged him forward, getting ready for the maneuver. It was a hard trick on the stomach. When the cart was opened to reveal the scorpion aiming for them, she bit her lower lip, drawing blood. And, letting her instincts guide her, she nudged Drogon to perform his trick. A scorpion bolt flew away, missing her head with about twenty feet. Viserion, who was flying low and charging from the other side, bathed the thing in flames a few seconds after, not giving a single chance for reload.

Climbing high again, her gaze swept the ground once more, but found nothing. Satisfied with her conquest of the skies, she urged her three sons towards the battlefield. Drogon flew slow, only taking a gentle glide towards their enemies, his brothers doing the same from other directions, more for the intimidation’s sake. She didn’t want to needlessly burn farm boys who never saw battle before and had no choice in the matter.

She saw a couple of archers being protected from all sides and aimed for them, instructing her son to show them the underside of his belly and chin, where his armor was strong and protect his eyes, which were his only vulnerable points. He knew this trick by now, he only had to begin to ascend before he got close to his target. She pulled her cape forward just in time to feel at least three arrows hit and bounce down. They would leave some serious blue spots, but it was better than being shot full of arrows.

It was a complete victory. Sadly, a few times she had to let her son breathe fire upon the battlefield when her own soldiers were looking like they might lose in some points, but all in all, she managed to make half of the army surrender.

Swords and any other weapons were collected to piles and guarded by three lines of Unsullied. Drogon Landed upon a small hill, his brothers still sweeping the sky. A promise to everyone who would get any ideas.

She got out of the saddle in front of everyone and stood at her son’s foot until every weapon was collected. Once done, she unfastened the belt of her helmet and removed it, giving it to White Flea, who was standing behind her along with Rhodo.

Pushing her hand across her forehead and into her hair for a moment, she walked forward, clasping both of her glowed hands before her, _Mother_ laying undisturbed on her waist. Unneeded, for now. The Unsullied brought three people before her. Three Commanders. Lord Randyll Tarly, his son, Dickon Tarly and to her utter surprise, Ser Jaime Lannister.

“First, I speak to the soldiers here. I know most of you had weapon thrust into your hands and sent to fight a foreign queen to protect you families. Let me tell you this. You families need no protection from me. Those who wish can go home and home alone, once you’ve bent the knee. No harm will come to you. Those who don’t think they can still their blood from attacking a queen that means them no harm… well, we have other ways to do this.”

Drogon growled behind her and she remained silent just a few seconds long enough to put fear into them before speaking up again.

“Those who don’t wish to kneel and go home in peace will be taken as prisoners of war and we will hold trial over them once I took the crown, where they’ll be given a second chance to kneel. Those who chose to defy me still, I’m afraid I have to treat them as enemies of the crown and deal with them accordingly. It is time to choose.”

She gestured towards them. Every soldier of the army took the chance to kneel and go home. They will be given enough coin to last on their way home. She doubted that any of them would go back to Cersei, based on the relief she saw on everyone’s faces. When there was no one left to go, the rest was lead closer, so she wouldn’t need to speak so very loudly.

All of them were lords that weren’t allowed to go just yet.

“Now I speak to the lords here. The Lords of the Westerlands will be taken as prisoners of war and treated fairly until we reach Dragonstone, where you can choose to swear fealty to my Hand of the Queen, Lord Tyrion Lannister of Casterly Rock. Those who do, will be sent home. Those who don’t, will be given trials once I took the crown and have a last chance to change their mind. Failing that, they would be considered enemy to the crown and be dealt with accordingly.”

The lords in questions were pale, but nodded. She instructed fifty of her Unsullied to lead them away and prepare them to travel along with her own forces. When there was silence again, she spoke once more.

“Now I speak to the lords of the Reach. You are all oath breakers, my lords. Your Liege Lady, Lady Olenna Tyrell swore fealty to me.” When Lord Tarly opted to speak, she silenced him with a gesture of her hand. “We shall speak about you soon, My Lord. The rest of you can choose to rectify your mistake and kneel to me, after which you will come to Dragonstone and beg for your Liege Lady’s pardon. Those who choose not to, will have the same chance for trial as the lords of the Westerlands do, but even if you kneel know, there will be retaliation for your crime. You will pay the crown a sum that your Liege Lady demands and failing to do that will result of you being stripped of your castles and lands.”

Some of the lords choose to kneel. The rest of them were taken away in chains, prepared to be shipped to Dragonstone along with her army. The lords that chose to swear fealty were given their swords back and stepped to the side, waiting for her to finish passing judgment.

There were only three people standing before her now.

“Lord Randyll Tarly. Your son, Samwell Tarly did a great service to all of the Seven Kingdoms in the citadel. The King in the North considers him a dear friend and speaks about him highly. To honor his good deed and accomplishment, I’ve decided to take your son, Dickon Tarly as ward.”

The face of the man was red with anger, yet there was relief in him too. He was relieved that his son wouldn’t share his fate, whatever it would be.

“You are an oath breaker, Lord Tarly. I can’t imagine what drew you to abandon your pledge to House Tyrell. If you have anything to say in your defense, speak now and speak freely.”

He took a deep breath and sighed, seemingly to calm himself.

“I took Queen Cersei’s side because she was born here. She is protecting the realm with its own people against your foreign soldiers and foreign ways.”

Daenerys hummed in a contemplating manner.

“Is that all you have against me? That I was raised in Essos? That my armies are from Essos? Then let me tell you this, My Lord. Your Queen is a Mad Woman. An Evil Woman. She allowed chaos and bloodshed to rampage across her kingdoms, never caring about anyone but herself. She allied herself with Euron Greyjoy and allowed him to pillage and rape and murder on her shores as long as she got to keep her crown. My Dothraki may have a bad reputation, but ask anyone in Highgarden, they didn’t lay a finger on a single soul.”

She smiled, this time a little more wickedly.

“And just so you know. I recently brokered a deal with the Iron Bank and the representative was kind enough to tell me that your queen was aiming to purchase the Golden Company, thus bringing foreigners into the kingdoms herself to win her wars.”

He seemed to be baffled by what she was saying, opening and closing his mouth, yet never finding words to express himself. He might’ve wanted to accuse her of lying, but between the two of them, he was the oath breaker and she was the Queen who treated her prisoners of war with respect while giving them more than one chance to retaliate, even if it could only be done with consequences.

“Don’t answer me now, My Lord. Think about it. You and your son will accompany me to Dragonstone anyway. You’ll have the chance to look Lady Olenna and Lord Willas Tyrell in the face and explain yourself to them. After that, we shall see what fate you’ll choose for yourself.”

She had the two of them led away in chains. Once it was only the Kingslayer, she sighed and descended from the hill, walking over to him, yet staying in a safe distance, with two Dothraki and two Unsullied behind her and behind the man, giving him no chance to try anything.

“Ser Jamie.”

“Your Grace.” His voice was defeated. He seemingly accepted his fate.

“Your little brother is My Hand of the Queen. He always spoke highly of you.”

“He killed my father.”

Daenerys blinked and tilted her head a little.

“Yes. Your father who had my sister-in-law raped and murdered. Your father who had my niece and nephew brutally killed before their mother. Your father, who started a war to conceal your crimes with your sister. Your father who had the Stark massacred at their dinner table. You killed my own father, Ser Jamie, yet I know he was an evil man and I don’t condemn you for it. Ask yourself this. Who was the one who supported you all your life? And who was the one who wanted to control you in order to appease his own fantasy?”

The disgraced knight looked gutted and it must have taken all of his self-control not to show it on his face more than he already did. He took large, deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. Daenerys let him, never moving her eyes away from his face. They stood there for a good three minutes before he found his voice again.

“Will you execute me?”

“No, Ser. I won’t. As I said, my Lord Hand loves you. He begged me not to end your life, to give you a chance. This is your chance, Ser Jaime and there won’t be more. You’ll come back to Dragonstone. You’ll never have lands and you’ll never serve in my Council. But I’ll let you live on the condition that you bend the knee and won’t get in my way when I come for your sister.”

He barked out a suffering laugh.

“How could I just stand aside? She is my sister. My twin.”

“Siblings can be our worst torturers, Ser Jaime. That I know from experience. You must admit to yourself, she is too far gone. She blew up a building in the middle of the most populated city of Westeros, just so she can get back at the people who humiliated her. She is actively starving the realm and would sacrifice anyone to keep her crown a second longer.”

He sighed, deep and defeated.

“May I have some time to think about this?”

“You may. We’ll see each other on Dragonstone next time, I believe, you can make a decision until then. Take care, Ser Jaime. I hope you’ll choose well.”

He was led away by two dozen Unsullied. She knew his reputation and didn’t want to take any chances. Once he was out a sight, she took a deep breath too. The calm she forced on herself was slipping already, having to look her father’s murderer in the face. While she despised what her father had become and what he represented, the rest of her brother’s family were innocents, yet Ser Jaime failed to save them.

Taking one last deep breath, she turned back to the lords, who were now ready to bend the knee. She walked back to the hill where her son was resting and gestured for them to form a line. The hard part was done. The War of the South was officially over, with Cersei Lannister’s last chance to win evaporating right at this moment.

Now she can begin to fully plan on the Great War.

Joy.


	9. Chapter 9

After the feast, she gave the order. They would leave come by morning. She reinstated the lords that chose to bend the knee, giving them back their former positions until Lady Olenna decides how to punish them. She gave the reins back to them with the condition that half of her Dothraki and Five hundred Unsullied will stay to protect the people. Should any of her warriors come to harm, she would know who to punish and this time, they’ll stand trial by fire.

She followed the fleet that took the prisoners and the rest of her army home from the skies, making the journey for the second time. Since there were no news about Euron’s whereabouts, she wasn’t going to risk anything. If her calculations were correct, by the time she would head out from Dragonstone to follow a portion of the fleet to Valyria, they’ll reach the ruins too.

The journey back took two weeks.

Her whole council was waiting for her atop the Cliff of Dragons, almost every one of the wearing pleased expressions. Lord Tyrion visibly wanted to check on his brother as soon as possible. Even the King in the North and his Lord Hand came out to welcome her. She felt pride rush into her veins as she descended from Drogon and took of her helmet.

“Your Grace.” Her council greeted her, bowing as deep as they can. “Welcome back.”

“Thank you for your welcome.” She then turned to the usually brooding man who was now smiling at her. “King in the North.”

“Queen in the South.” He replied.

These titles became their jest. She smirked at him and he offered his arm, which she took.

“I’ve brought some prisoners with me who will need shelter, food and clean clothes. My soldiers are tired too, make sure they get everything they need. Tonight, we feast to this victory, tomorrow, we shall talk about the siege.”

All of her advisors nodded and went to do their work or see if they could offer any help. Lord Varys gave her three folded letters and she took them, saying her thanks, but putting them inside his gloves for now. Along with the King in the North and his Lord Hand, she headed out to the forge first. She was pleased to see the level of ease which her followers carried themselves around the man. Every one of them accepted his title and began to treat him with the respect they would treat a monarch with.

After all, they knew her plans and ambitions. Forcing her rule upon a country that had no wish to call her queen and already began to stand on its own legs would be a waste of resources and time. Around here, no one liked any of that.

“How’s the mining coming along? How many do we have?” She asked, while they were descending the stairs to the forge.

“We have ten thousand spearheads, fifty thousand arrowheads, five thousand daggers, twenty thousand arakhs and counting, Your Grace.” The Lord Hand said. “Every day new blacksmiths arrive and work tirelessly. One hundred man working in three forges and expanding.”

“Has the first shipments arrived to Winterfell yet?”

“They should have.” King Jon said. “Last we heard about them, they left White Harbor. That was six days ago. By now, the forges of Winterfell are working too.”

His steps were more comfortable now, more sure. A good portion of a huge weight was lifted from his shoulders and it showed. His posture was more upright, as if he was just getting used to being called King and treated with the respect he deserved. It made her wonder what kind of court etiquette these northerners had.

“Good.” She said and smiled at the two men, who returned the gesture. “We have much and we’ll have more. Have you thought about the defenses I found?”

“Aye, Your Grace. We were thinking about making barricades out a trees. We leave branches on. They are mindless slaves, they would run straight into them. I’ve sent order to begin the making of the three trenches we agreed on as well as the holed for the wildfire caskets.”

„That will certainly speed up things, Your Grace. Any word from the Night’s Watch?”

“They haven’t seen anything yet. What about Queen Yara?”

“She should arrive the next three weeks. Our sell sword army will be at Winterfell at the end of the next month.”

This was the moment when they reached the forges. Inside everyone was sweating and working tirelessly. One of the boys closer to them noticed their arrival and loudly announced that ‘The King and The Queen is here!’. The work stopped almost immediately, everyone bowing deeply to the rulers.

“Go on everyone, time is essential. Continue your work. As if we aren’t even here.”

Daenerys’s order was heeded immediately and all of them turned back to their jobs. King Jon, who spend the majority of his time either here in the forge or outside in the mines walked her around, showing her the process of things as well as the stocks in the other room that were put into wooden boxes, ready for shipment.

“We can do this. We will defeat them and our kingdoms will never know the horror of those creatures.”

“Aye, we will. All thanks to you, Your Grace.” The King in the North was looking at her with marvel in his eyes yet again and she tightened her grip on his arm.

“And you, Your Grace. The Realm knows about the threat because of you. A good portion of the Free Folk is alive, because of you. Our armies will be as prepared as possible, thanks to you and your capability to have faith in someone you’ve never met. Your willingness to sacrifice everything for the Dawn.”

She was quite taken with this man. It wasn’t love, but deep admiration. She saw him fight before and understood why he was told to be the greatest swordsman of the Seven Kingdoms. She saw how tirelessly he worked along with their men, lending a helping hand to everyone who needs it. She was sure that the North chose a good King to lead them towards prosperity, even if his fate was to give his crown to his sister in the end.

“You’ll be welcome on the feast, Your Grace. And your Lord Hand, of course.”

“We wouldn’t miss it.”

“I’m glad. I’ll retire now. I long to finally take a bath. I’m pretty sure some of this mud on my boots is from the battlefield.”

Both men chuckled and they said their goodbyes. While she was waiting for her bath to be readied, she and Missandei took the chance to catch up on things. Her Translator smiled at her shyly when she asked what ‘Many Things’ she was talking about and then both of them burst into laughter. Her joy was short lived however, once she read the first letter.

“Your Grace?”

Rushing over to the fireplace, she gazed into the flames, forgetting about the caution she felt towards this sight. Before her eyes, a picture formed about a city getting ready for a siege. She saw the very familiar face of Daario, shouting orders and leading civilians into safety while around him the city burned.

“Your Grace?” Missandei’s voice brought her back to the present. “What’s the matter?”

“Euron Greyjoy’s fleet was spotted in Volantis. They’re going to attack Meeren.” Looking into the shocked and fearful eyes of her advisor, she came to a conclusion. “I need to go there.”

“Your Grace, you can’t–“

“I must! Raven would take too long, if it would reach them at all. And they only have the Second Sons, no warships, no other armies. No chance to defend themselves against that madman. I need to go, now!”

Missandei bit her lower lip, but seemingly decided that arguing with her would lead to nowhere.

“Then what should we say to the court? The feast is already getting ready.”

“I’ll tell them… tell them…”

What _should_ she tell them? Could she say anything without sounding unreasonable or paranoid? If she marches inside the War Room and declares that she’s rushing to another continent based on a letter and a vision, they’d rightfully think her mad. Every effort of her trying her best not to sound anything like her father would crumble into dust.

Or not…

“I’ll tell them that I’ll go to Volantis.”

“Volantis, Your Grace?” Her advisor looked flabbergasted.

“Because they found something I asked them to look for, long ago while I was in Meeren.”

“And what is that, Your Grace?”

She looked back inside the fire, the flames showing them the mighty Stronghold of the Old Valyrian Empire, and made up her mind. This was the right time.

“Dragon Eggs. I saw them in the flames. They are in Valyria, but they don’t need to know that. If Lady Melisandre is right and the Arch Priestesses are as gifted with the sight as I am, should they write for Volantis for confirmation, Kinvara will back my claim up.”

“And what happens when the news of the Siege of Meeren will reach Westeros?”

This is why she loved Missandei so much. The young woman never doubted her, not once, not even after she began to talk about visions in the flames, armies of the dead and now dragons eggs in the last remnant of the old empire. Missandei simply believed in her to such an extent that the thought of her going mad and speaking nonsense never even crossed her mind. This was the difference between her and her new advisors. Missandei has been with her for years now. She learned to trust her queen’s instincts.

“Then I’ll tell them the truth. I’ll tell them that sometimes I make use of this sight. They’ll have proof that I’m telling the truth. And if they chose to think me mad… I suppose there is no helping it then.”

She would not hide anything about herself, just because others had a hard time accepting it. She hoped that none of her new councilors would decide that would be the second coming of her father, if she just continued to prove them wrong. And if they _would_ plan against her, trying to remove her, well as things were now, once glance at the flames and she would know about anything they try to do.

“Very well, Your Grace. I shall call a War Council immediately.”

***

“You plan to go _where?”_ Lady Olenna’s face was the perfect picture of disbelief.

“Volantis. They found something I asked them to search for and I intend to get it as soon as possible.”

“Then send someone to retrieve it, Your Grace, don’t go alone!” Her Hand was basically pleading with her.

She smiled and them and gestured for them to lean closer. It was only her council here. Lady Ellaria and Lady Olenna, Lord Tyrion and Lord Varys. Grey Worm and Qhono were speaking with Missandei, who was telling them the same thing in their own preferred languages. The King in the North was not invited to this meeting, since it was her personal business.

“It’s dragon eggs.” She whispered, letting her motherly joy show on her face. “They found dragon eggs.”

Each of their eyes grew into the size of dish plates. Before they could speak, she continued.

“There is no guarantee if they would even hatch, but nevertheless, I wouldn’t trust them in anyone’s hand but my own. I want them here as soon as possible.”

Silence was her answer for a long time before Lord Tyrion found his voice.

“The siege?”

“You’ll proceed as planned. I’ll leave it to your capable hands. Everything you would need me for has been done and dealt with. I’ll come and join you soon anyway. Can I trust you four to carry out my will?”

They reassured her that everything will be done and depending on how long she’ll be away, maybe they can put a crown upon her head as soon as she arrives back home. None of them seemed suspicious, though it may be that they were excellent in hiding it. She said her goodbyes to them and went to speak to the King in the North in person about her leaving.

She found him and Ser Davos in the King’s quarters. They became worried when they saw that she was wearing armor, but her smile eased their fears a little.

“I’m afraid I have to go to Essos in personal business Your Grace. Everything here will go on as planned. Depending on how much I’d be away, we may only see each other in Winterfell next. If I’m not back in three weeks and you wish to begin marching north, talk to my advisor, Missandei. She’ll help you mobilize the army on my authority. Should you need anything from my westerosi allies, approach them as you’d approach me, or speak to my Lord Hand.”

“Thank you Your Grace. For everything. I hope we meet again soon.” He stood and seemingly didn’t know how to bid her farewell. Finally, he decided to incline his head towards her, and she had to bit her lip in amusement, yet returned the gesture all the same.

“Take care, King in the North.”

“Safe travels, Queen in the South.”

***

She felt really sorry for her sons. This journey wasn’t anything to be taken lightly, especially flying across the Narrow Sea. But they did it. In a single flight they crossed, being in the air for one and a half days. She let them rest once they reached shore on the other side and while they ate their fill, she had them light a fire for her too.

Chewing on her horsemeat, she gazed into the flames tentatively.

The same vivid vision greeted her about Meeren being under a siege. She had no way to know how long she had to reach the city. That was the only reason for her breakneck pace. Should she arrive just a few hours too late, many of the freed slaves would be dead or back in chains. But she needed to let her sons rest. It would take at least six more days to reach the bay of dragons. They’ve been travelling for five now.

While her sons were resting after they ate their fill, she was practicing with _Mother _and her daggers. Going through the motions, she thought about the other two letters she had received. One was from the Iron Bank that the Golden Company is ready to go. There will be a few issues with the elephants, but Yara said some of her great ships could carry the majority of them.

Should they have the time, they’ll make two journeys, hoping against hope that they would be fast enough.

The other letter was from Daario himself, who said that so far everything seemed to be in order. Some part of her was happy that she would see him again. While she didn’t love him as a lover, even though his confidence amused her to a great deal, she still liked his company. He was outspoken and always told what he believed to be the truth. Maybe after she took the crown, she could have him visit for a few days. She certainly wanted to show him the Iron Throne they had talked about so much.

She smiled at the memory and went on with her practice.

***

She stopped at Volantis. The Triarchs practically panicked at her presence. When the massive shadow of her children was cast down upon the city, she was shocked to see that the majority of the people broke out in cheers when they saw her in the skies. She heard a thunderous roll of ‘Mhysa’ shake the very foundation of the Free City.

At that moment she realized that the slaves thought she came to finally set them free. Guilt churned at her insides and she decided at the spot that something must be done at once about the situation. Drogon took a massive arc around the Temple of R’Hllor and she saw Lady Kinvara standing at the huge altar at the top.

She urged her son to land next to the red priestess and dismounted with suspicion in her heart.

The Arch Priestess of the Red God welcomed her with a self-assured smirk.

“You look pleased to see me, Priestess.”

“I am, Your Grace.”

“But not surprised?” Since she still had her helmet on, the woman couldn’t see her raise a suspicious eyebrow.

“Not at all. The Lord of Light showed me that the Mother of Flame will arrive shortly to ask for my guidance and also help me finally set the city free.”

Drogon growled behind her. She turned to see men in familiar armor approach her. They were Unsullied. She didn’t want to fight them, and wanted even less to give the order to Drogon. But before she could speak, trying to sway them, Lady Kinvara took the chance.

“The Mother of Flame has arrived to our city at last. The day we’ve been preparing for years is here. It’s time for us to shake down our shackles and free ourselves from the tormentors! Go and bring them over to our temple. Let the Lord of Light cleanse them from their sins. They cannot resist you while the Breaker of Chains is in the city.”

The soldiers didn’t need to be told twice, they turned on their heels and marched out the spread the world about the rebellion she just started simply by arriving to the city.

“I don’t appreciate you using my name as an excuse to take control of a city and burn everyone who disagrees with you, My Lady.”

“Don’t be angry with me, Mother of Flame. I’m simply doing what you wanted us to do. Taking our destiny into our own hands, forging a fate worthy of living. You started something, Daenerys Stormborn, and you need to take responsibility for it. Your presence is power. Your name is power. Look how you liberate a city by simply stepping inside its walls.”

“This isn’t my doing!”

“But it is, Your Grace. You existing gave them the necessary hope to prepare and your presence gives them the courage to act on their strength.”

Daenerys bit her lip, conflict waging war inside her chest. On one hand, she was overjoyed seeing these people taking matter into their own hands. If they wanted to use her as an excuse and an opportunity to act now, then by all means, use her. But she was wary of this Priestess. Kinvara was onto something by this rebellion, it was written on her face and Daenerys despised being a puppet in someone else’s power play.

“I imagine you’d be taking the place of the Triarchs?”

“No. We don’t need Triarchs anymore. Volantis has everything it needs to stand on her own feet. The masters couldn’t live without us, but we are more than capable to make our living without them.”

“Alright, so where do _you_ come into the picture?”

Lady Kinvara smiled at her and Daenerys had a sudden feeling that this woman was much older than she showed. The soul she saw behind those gleaming, ruby red eyes was more ancient than any person she had the fortune or misfortune of meeting before.

“I am the servant of the Lord of Light. I serve the Lord’s Chosen.”

“And who might that be?”

The Priestess looked her up and down, eyebrows raised, indicating towards her with her chin.

“Me?”

“The fire inside you is so hot it’s worthy of myths. I do not know if you are meant to be Azor Ahai or there is someone else, but right now, you are the best candidate I have seen so far. You certainly enjoy his almost undivided attention. He told me to guide you. Make sure you have everything you could need. You’ll be facing another Chosen soon, the Champion of the Great Other. You need your power more than ever.”

Daenerys almost scoffed at the idea of prophecies and destinies, but kept her remark to herself and instead gestured toward the city. Some roofs were smoking and people were swarming the streets like ants. She could hear cheer from more than one places, so it seemed that the rebellion was quite well put together.

“And how does this help you make me stronger?” She asked, gesturing towards the city, meaning the rebellion.

“Names are power, Daenerys Stormborn. What do you think, how many people whisper your name into their prayers, slaves and freed men alike. The more they think of you, the more powerful you’ll become. Your flame burns so hot because all across two continents people cry out your name, stroking your fire. Believe me. You’ll need every drop of this strength.”

“You are talking about magic.”

“Magic. You did have some encounters with this force before. You stare into the flames and they tell you stories. Your dreams are filled with visions, warning you of things that may and may not come to pass. Look into the fire again, what do you see?”

The Priestess stepped aside, allowing Daenerys to glance into the huge, ever blazing pyre behind her. She did so with caution. Once again the streets of Meeren stretched out before her vision, but the picture was somehow sharpened, more detailed.

“All I see is that my presence is needed in Meeren.”

“You see a possible future where your presence could be needed in Meeren. Of course, it doesn’t need to come to pass, if you choose the other method.”

Puzzled, she turned back to the Priestess.

“What other method?”

This was the first time Lady Kinvara seemed to be caught off guard. She blinked, surprised and searched Daenerys’s own eyes, trying to find any sign in them that shows the queen has even an ounce of idea of what she was talking about. Under them, at the feet of the temple, more people cheered.

“You don’t know. Melisandre didn’t tell you.”

“About what?” Her patience was wearing thin at this point.

“You can take the life of Euron Greyjoy here and now. I’m here, I can do it for you. All we need is royal blood and–“

Daenerys’s sword was at her throat before she could finish that sentence. The Queen was basically seething now, eyes ablaze with fury.

“You dare mention blood magic before me? After the witch killed my husband and unborn child with the same unholy way you try to poison my mind with?”

“It would mean your victory.”

“It would mean I spit everything I value in the face. Let me make this clear. Since you already based your rebellion on me, claiming that you wish to serve me, follow these three simple orders. No slavery, no human sacrifices and no blood magic. Do any of that and I’ll come for your head as soon as it reaches my ear. Did I make myself clear?”

The Priestess didn’t look happy, but curtsied all the same, seemingly not bothered by the sword at her throat.

“It’ll be as you command Your Grace.”

“Good. Now let us finish this rebellion you’ve started. I have urgent business in Meeren.”

***

The rebellion was over by the time the sun had set. Even though she was furious with Kinvara, she had to hand it to her. Everyone was in order. A conquest of a city with barely a handful of casualties. They made her hold trial and pass sentence over the masters they captured. She spared everyone under the age of fourteen of consequences and let them keep a portion of their family’s treasures. As for the rest, she heard out three slaves from each master’s house. Those who treated them good and fair were spared. The rest were consumed by her children’s fire.

She skipped the feast, claiming that Meeren was in danger and she had to fly out in the next hour. Even though she couldn’t stay, they swarmed her with gifts. Dresses, jewelries, delicacies, wines, armors and swords were laid at her feet. She had to accept them and ordered the gifts to be stored at the Temple until she was done and would head back to Westeros.

She found herself standing before the ever blazing fire at the top of the temple, staring into the flames. The more she saw the more drained she felt, but she couldn’t turn away. Pictures followed each other before her eyes.

Of the Ice Queen, the Mystery Girl. Of Jon Snow, on the top of the Wall and in his chambers on Dragonstone, talking and drinking with Lord Tyrion, working in the mines along with the men, practicing in the yard with her soldiers. She saw a feast she had never seen before, held by an old, foul looking man. Everyone around him choked on some kind of poison and the man removed his face, reveling the Mystery Girl. So she was a Faceless Man then. Fascinating. She saw the Ice Queen, though without her crown for once, sitting in a great hall with a man sitting before her. His smirk disturbed Daenerys and she decided that she did not like this man one bit.

“So it’s you.”

Blinking in surprise, she turned towards the owner of the voice who stood behind her. He was a young man, a boy really, with short brown hair and brown eyes. He was a northerner, that much was clear, since he was dressed for much more unforgiving weather that Volantis could ever have.

“Who are you?” She asked.

“My name is Brandon Stark. I am the Three Eyed Raven. Who are _you_?”

“My name is Daenerys Stormborn. Wait, you said Stark? Are you King Jon’s little brother, Brank Stark?”

“I used to be. Some part of me still is.”

That’s when she noticed that he wasn’t really there at all. His appearance was a little transparent and he would be cooking in those clothes, should he really be present physically.

“I felt you watch my family.” He said with a small smile on his face. “You like them.”

“I suppose I do, though I have yet to meet the rest of them.” She couldn’t help but smile back. His smile was similar to the King’s, though a little flatter.

“They’ll be wary of you at first.”

“I’m told all you northerners are like that. But how can you be here? And what is a Three Eyed Raven?”

“I’m sorry, I have to go now. My powers don’t really work in Essos. I can only talk to you because I use you as a source of power. We shall speak when you go back to Dragonstone.”

Puzzled, all she could do was nod. And just like that, he disappeared. Daenerys opened her eyes with a gasp and staggered a little backwards from the huge bowl of fire. Feeling like she just awoke from a small nap, she looked around, expecting to see Brandon Stark once more, but he was nowhere to be seen. It was a vision then. But it was unlike anything she’s experienced before. Maybe because it was him doing it. He claimed to be some sort of Raven and having powers.

“Your Grace? Are you alright?”

She looked at Lady Kinvara, who approached from the stairs.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I felt a power I have never sensed before. Too cold to belong to any of us. I thought somehow the Great Other or his Champion found a way to you and came to see if you are alright.”

“I am fine. It wasn’t… them. It was a boy who claimed to be some sort of Raven.”

“Raven?”

“Three Eyed Raven.”

“I’ve never heard of anyone like that, but I can look into it if you wish.”

The decline was on her tongue, but she decided against it. It couldn’t help to gather some information about this strange new face who had magic similar to her own. Maybe she could reach out to him just like he did with her. Or at least help him to stay more. She had so many questions he could answer. The King in the North claimed his brother was lost on the other side of the Wall. Maybe this boy could provide them with valuable information. Maybe they can save him and bring him home.

“You do that. I’m flying out now. Should anyone of my council ask–“

“You’ve been here for the dragon eggs I found for you.”

She didn’t even grace that with an answer.


	10. Chapter 10

Daenerys was too late.

By the time she arrived with her sons, the last remnants of the Kraken’s fleet, three hundred ships, were inside the port and the city was in chaos. Gripping the spikes of Drogon, she felt a growl build in her throat. Her son sharing her sentiment let out a thundering roar as they descended from the sky, raining fire upon thirty ships.

Rhaegal and Viserion were circling above the city. From the roofs, some of the Iron Born targeted them with arrows. There was a particularly group that panicked at Rhaegal’s appearance and they tried to shoot him with everything they had. In response, her son roasted them in their armor. Daenerys urged Drogon towards the sky once more, following an impossible pattern since she saw three scorpion bolts miss them.

She took a large circle around the city, ordering her two sons to keep away from the fleet, not wanting to get them hurt, or worse, loose them. Drogon shook his spikes in anticipation once she turned him back towards the sky, aiming to use the sun at her advantage.

”_Fly fast my son. Don’t let them fire.”_

He did. It was thanks to the saddle that she managed to remain on him at this breakneck speed. She was laying against him on the saddle so the cut of the air didn’t hurt her as much. A speed this high was disadvantageous of a rider, but she heard her son doing amazing work in the next three minutes, torching ships and destroying scorpions.

Once her son was high in the sky once more, his glide slowing down, she sat up and looked down upon her enemies. They were only holding arrows towards her now, third of their fleet destroyed. She urged her son towards the flagship, aiming to finish this once and for all.

Drogon let out a pleased and eager rumble, turning lazily towards her target and closing in on it as if he was the impending doom made flesh. The command was almost at her tongue, but she felt the blood drain from her face as she laid eyes upon the figure tied to the main mast.

Turning her son away in the last second, she locked gazes with Daario. Urging Drogon to make another turn, she quickly began to unfasten the clasps of her armor, freeing herself from the saddle, despite the dragon’s displeasure and grumbling. When he approached the ship once more, she jumped from his back with the singular aim to save her ex paramour, not even thinking about how many ways this could have gone wrong.

Her instincts drove her steps and movements and she landed more or less gracefully on the ship. Just as she stood up, she spotted the seven arrows pointed toward her a second before they were shot. She raised her cloak in time and managed to dig her heel in. All the arrows fell to the ground. Grabbing one of her draggers from her belt with her other hand, the cloak still before her, she made her way to Daario, slipping him the weapon.

“The Mother of Dragons in person! Come on boys, it’s not working, put that shit away. Besides, I want to see her face.”

As if she would remove the protection from her face. She knew he was a madman, Yara told her the things he did. Not a word from him could be trusted and he would most likely shoot her between her eyes, once she moved. She slid the dagger to Daario so he could free himself.

“Your niece told me about you.” She said, buying time.

“Oh, I bet she did. Do you guys fuck each other in that fortress? Did she offer her cunt along with her ships? You have a dornish woman there too, right? Just imagine the orgies!”

Meanwhile Drogon was finishing his other loop around, coming back, ready to land on the ship for a few seconds until her mother and her friend could climb onto him. The enormous shadow of her son fell on the ship, his wings made a storm akin to a hurricane as he was trying to find his footing on the flagship.

“Daario, behind me!”

He did no such a thing. Of course he didn’t, he was Daario Naharis. His pride couldn’t be satisfied with watching from Drogon as the dragon torches this cursed ship. This was personal and he intended to deal with this himself. Despite being infinitely annoyed with him as he threw the dagger she gave between the eyes of the nearest archer, she felt a smirk tingle her lips. Some things never change.

Drogon let out a roar and built up his fire inside his chest. She tackled her not so fire proof ex paramour to the ground before that part of the ship was bathed in dragon fire.

“On me again?” He asked from the ground with a smirk.

“Dream on.” She chuckled, despite herself and got on her feet. “Come on, we need to leave before this shit sinks.”

“As my queen commands.”

Just as the two of them stood up, an arrow met her breastplate. Luckily it did not injure her but it made her stagger back a few steps. Daario of course wasn’t going to leave that without a word. Gripping the hilt of _Mother_ from her waist, he charged towards the crazed pirate, who managed to avoid the dragon fire.

“Daario, get back! We need to leave!”

Euron was laughing like crazy as the two of them danced around each other. She couldn’t separate them and couldn’t help, since they were too close to each other. Looking around quickly, she spotted a bow and a few arrows scattered on the ground. By the time they were in her hands and ready to fire, the two men were directly across her on the other side of the ship. She took a few steps closer, her hand sure. From this distance, she won’t miss, but she needed to count their movements, in order to avoid injuring her ex-lover.

“Daario! Duck!”

He complied at once. Sadly, Euron too reacted to her shout, but her arrow still lodged into his shoulder. For some mad reason, he wasn’t wearing any armor, just his captain attire. He laughed even more at that and they started to dance once more around each other. Drawing another arrow, she followed him with her aim, but the bastard made sure that all she could see was Daario’s back.

“Mother of Ashes! Look at that!” He gestured wildly to the other ship.

On the deck, Iron Born were standing, each of them holding dagger to a meerenese’s to throat. Since she froze, eyes going wide with realization. Unluckily for her, Euron was there to make it worse.

“Every ship you’ve torched today had fifty of those filth in the belly.” His shrieking laughter managed to strike an echo in the chaos. “You burned your own people!”

She heard the clatter of bow in the ground, but didn’t care. She heard Drogon give an earth shattering, heart wrenching roar from his place, suffering along with his mother’s anguish. She lunged at him and gave him a punch that made him stagger. Not giving an inch, she jumped at him, gripping his throat with both hands, tightening her hold as much as she could while sobs were wrecking her body.

He screamed, his skin shimmering under her glowed touch. The smell of burnt flesh assaulted her nose, but she couldn’t concentrate on anything.

He pushed her off easily, but as he reached for his weapon, a huge mouth closed on his torso, biting into his belly. Drogon shook him like a ragdoll until his legs were torn from his body, blood sprouting from the wound. Then the dragon spat the rest of him on the deck and began to blow fire on his corpse, reducing it to ashes along with a good portion of the rest of the ship that was quickly sinking.

Sinking, possibly with more of her people inside.

She ran towards the stairs, her steps faltering at the rocking of the sinking ship that would break in two in any seconds now. But all she needed was a single glance inside. Blood. Blood everywhere. Her people were massacred inside, slaughtered in chains by the two bastards that shot arrows at her from the end of the ship. She didn’t even defend herself.

Children. Little children. Killed. Burned. Because of her. By her.

Nausea overtook her and the world took a sharp turn before her eyes.

Then she screamed again.

After that, she didn’t remember much.

There was fire. Fire from her own hands, cooking those bastards in their armors. Two strong arms encircled her chest and she was pulled back to the deck. The ship croaked and broke in two and she was suddenly in cold, dark water. From the surface, an anguished roar disturbed the silence of the sea, then an enormous shape jumped into the water, gently taking both of her and the other figure into his mouth, who was trying to keep her from sinking.

His son swam to shore with them, trying his best to keep their head above water. In the port, she stood up and looked around.

It all felt like a dream. A horrible nightmare.

She ran through the streets, her steps followed by inferno of fire. Those who were her enemies, burned at the fire that woke upon her touch.

She hunted them until the night was heavy.

Awareness reached her when someone was trying to shake her body, screaming ‘Mhysa’ over and over again in agony. She opened her eyes and realized that she was laying in the sand. Around her the people of Meeren cried. The woman who tried to wake her up broke into a teary smile and put her head on her breastplate, sobs rocking her body. On her other side, Daario was kneeling, a relieved gasp leaving his lips.

Voices cried of in the crowd.

“_Mhysa is alive!”_

Cheers rocked the beach, yet all she could feel was agony. Her chest was aching, as if someone stabbed her right in the heart. She murdered her own people. They were inside the ships she let her sons loose on. They were burned alive by her. She was a monster. Her hands were stained with the ashes of a thousand innocent people.

She cried, for once not caring if anyone saw her. She was crying and screaming, feeling sick down to her bones. They were crying along with her. They were all kneeling in the sand, all of them around her. They hugged her, whispering sniffets of comfort into her ear, caressing her hair and the armor on her back.

And she cried louder.

***

She spent seven days in Meeren.

She never once stepped foot into her old quarters, no matter how much she longed for a bath and solitude. No matter how hard Daario begged her to rest. She worked herself to the bone, helping everyone in any way they could need, cleaning and bandaging wounds, helping rebuilding houses, handing out food in the shelters, cleaning of the streets and burying the dead, until her own hands were calloused and bloody.

Meeren lost one thousand, three hundred sixty seven people. The majority of these were on the ships she burned.

The worst part was that no one was blaming her.

_“You couldn’t have known Mhysa.”_

_“You saved us.”_

_“We love you.”_

Day and night she worked herself to the bone. When she was so tired she had to sleep a few hours, she woke up screaming. Her bed was made in the corner of a shelter for women who lost their homes or families. None of them were ever angry with her when her screams woke them up. They just curled up beside her, hugged her and let her cry until the morning.

On the second day when the dead were burned, she was the last one to leave the hill, except for Daario who was always near her, like a loyal hound, ready to jump at any moment. He slept on the other side of the shelter’s window and worked alongside her, keeping his eyes on the crowd.

She stood there until everyone was gone to sleep or work, and stared into the fire, silent tears streaming down her face. The flames were showing her the same pictures of the treasury with the three dragon eggs, insisting on her going and taking them.

“_This was you.” _She hissed at the fire, agony tying a knot in her throat, but her fury was stronger for once. “_You’ve allowed this to happen! You did! If this is you fucking plan that we don’t want any of it!”_

Never once did the flames warn her that innocents would be inside those ships. They allowed her to be deceived and baited into killing a thousand innocent people, when all she would’ve needed was a glance. Now she is the Mother of Ashes. A Monster.

She made a wow of never taking a single glance in the flames anymore. If this was the price of being his supposed ‘Chosen’, she wasn’t interested. Lord Varys was right. Magic cannot be trifled with. It cannot be controlled, it must be avoided at all cost.

The people of Meeren called her now the Mother of Flame, just like Lady Kinvara predicted.

Not because she burned the fleet, but because of what they saw after. They say she walked the streets of Meeren like a spirit of fire, consuming every enemy with her flames until nothing but their ashes remained. She didn’t remember any of that. Maybe it wasn’t even her. Maybe it was that presumed Lord of Light, using her body as a vessel. She didn’t know and she didn’t care. She would never touch magic again.

At first, she only wanted to stay five days. Regardless of her own personal misery and the suffering she caused, she was needed across the Narrow Sea, fighting a war against dead people that aimed to consume the living. She needed to go to Valyria as soon as possible, stock the ships full with gold, valyrian steel and armor, take the eggs and hurry back to Dragonstone.

But she couldn’t.

The first time she tried to mount Drogon, she didn’t even reach the saddle, before rushing back to the ground, retching. Sobs shook her body and she screamed again, consoled by her two sons who mourned along with their mother. Drogon was on his best behavior. It was clear that he regretted the burning of the fleet. She didn’t know it was because of the lives they extinguished he felt guilty for, or he hated being the cause of her misery.

That night she stumbled into Daario, gripping his clothes tightly.

“Hold me please.” She whispered, already feeling awful about herself and what she was doing.

The warrior gave her a sad look. Nevertheless he hugged her tight as both of them curled into a corner, him rubbing her back while she cried her eyes about. He kissed her forehead and her temples, calming her the best he can.

She fell asleep in his arms, finding solace in a warm and alive body beside her. The nightmares weren’t so terrible that night. In the morning, she felt awful about doing this to him, but Daario would hear none of her apologies.

“You are my love, my queen and my friend. It’s the least I’d do for you.”

It took her two days of trying until she managed to reign in her sickness and stay on Drogon’s back while he was in the air. She left people in charge of rebuilding the city and gave them permission to hire more sell swords until their people are ready for combat. Daario wouldn’t even let her finish when she wanted to say goodbye.

“I’ll never leave you again. Even if we can’t have anything, I’ll serve you, follow you to the end of the world.”

He didn’t say, but his eyes betrayed him. He was afraid to leave her alone, without a human contact.

Then they left. Together. He sat arms encircling her waist to keep himself in the saddle, never making a single move towards anything inappropriate. She sometimes noticed him rest his chin on her shoulder or in her hair, and while the touch was affectionate, it wasn’t invasive and it calmed her.

They had to stop at Volantis for a second time, but she avoided the city like the plague. It didn’t help. The High Priestess found her on the cliff she chose, no doubt guided by her lord.

“Your Grace.”

“Get away! I don’t care what you have to say!”

“I can’t leave you when you are suffering.”

She bristled, and screamed at her.

“It’s because of your bloody god that I’m suffering! He could’ve told me there were innocents on those ships! Now I am a monster, murderer of innocents! Does that please your bloodthirsty god? Did he relish in the souls I burned that day?”

All three of her sons were growling deep and showing teeth, ready to torn into the woman should she say anything stupid, or take a step closer. Daario had his arakh drawn, not bothering himself with the fact that a woman was supposed to be his enemy. Everyone who upset his queen would meet the same fate, should Daenerys give the order.

“It’s because of him that Meeren wasn’t lost completely. That your city wasn’t conquered, your people back in chains, your gold used to take enemies to your shores.”

“So what? Am I supposed to feel grateful? Fuck you and your god! I am not a tool, he can’t use me like this!”

“Your Grace–“

Drogon seemingly lost his patience, because she saw her biggest son raise his head, his chest flaring up with the inferno he was ready to release. He burned the ground between them until nothing but black cinders remained. The only reason he didn’t burn Lady Kinvara to crisp was because Daenerys always became violently ill, even when they used their fire to cook their prey. He didn’t want to cause his mother more suffering.

“Leave me alone!”

She did. They left in the dark of the night and reached Valyria not long after that. The ships were already waiting for her, with the Kraken sigil on their sails. She was glad she had nothing in her stomach and that she was fastened in her saddle, because she couldn’t calm herself for the next two hours, not even in the arms of Daario and his voice in her ear.


	11. Chapter 11

Valyria was breathtaking to see in person.

Especially from high in the sky. She and her sons took leisure glides between the still standing towers. Under them the ground was still breathing smoke into the air, but it thinned significantly by the time it reached the highs she was exploring. Behind her Daario and three Unsullied sat. There were five more each on her other sons too. She circled in the air for about half an hour before she found the tower that she believed was the one from her vision.

The three dragons landed at the highest level. It was more than enough space for all three of them to land and allow their passengers to get down. Every soldier had a huge leather bag on their back and two more bags in for each hand.

_”Be careful, my queen. They say stone men are here.”_

_“I don’t believe they would climb this high.”_

Though she said that, she drew her new, temporary sword all the same. _Mother_ was lost to the bottom of the sea at the Bay of Dragons. Drogon only saved her, not paying attention to anything else but his mother. It was fitting, she thought. Loosing _Mother_ when she lost the right to be called Mhysa.

They began to descend the stairs and explore the tower. Right at the first level they’ve found hundreds of chests, all filled with gold and jewels. She marveled at the craftsmanship of the accessories. Crowns, necklaces, bracelets, circlets and staffs were everywhere, along with other accessories she had never seen before. Four Unsullied stood guard while the others filled the bags.

She was standing at a large window, looking down upon the ruins. This place was untouched by everyone until they stepped foot here. The first living souls who enjoyed this view. A melancholic sadness was ruling her whole being, wrapping around the ever present agony in her soul. While the Unsullied were working, she walked the treasury, not even knowing what she was looking for.

All these riches, forgotten and left behind in a barren, destroyed paradise.

_But it wasn’t a paradise._

No. Valyria was like a Dream World. Those who lived in the highest towers felt like they were living the dreams of every man. Those who were suffering at the bottom felt like their life was an eternal nightmare. She wasn’t blind to the bloody path of this place. The foundation was based on slavery. Under her feet, in the bowels of the old city were thousands of chambers that served as the last place of misery for countless souls. It made her ill just to think about it.

For wealth. For power. For magic.

Her ancestors were monsters. She was the last remnant of people who had the most ancient magic in their veins. It urged them towards greatness. She knew that, because she felt the same. The ever present fire in her chest, urging her to go forward, to do something, to claim, to _rule._ The greed inside her was so enormous, sometimes she lost herself to it.

Only her motherly instincts kept it at bay. To be more than just a conqueror. She wanted to help, to save everyone she can, no matter the personal cost. That is why something broke inside her forever in Meeren and why she would loathe to reach for the magic in her blood once more. Because this was the reason why this Lord of Light chose her to be his pawn. Because her blood was power. Her name was power.

She was standing atop of the failure of her ancestors and she was feeling sick.

_We are all monsters. All of us. Some just hide it better._

She jumped a little when Daario showed up beside her, wearing one of his usual smirks, though much less flirtatious than she had ever seen him. She was glad that he respected her decisions. Some part of her was scared that he would press the issue once she began to get herself together, but he didn’t make any suggestive moves so far.

“I barely believe all this was piled up here, and no one would’ve ever found it.” He said, marveling at silver bracelet in his hand that contained huge amethysts.

“I’m sure the fire would’ve gone out eventually.”

“It certainly seems that it doesn’t plan doing that for now.”

As he said that, he was looking down to the feet of the tower. The air was shimmering and distorting their vision, indicating the head that was raging near the ground. No one would be able to get close for at least a hundred more years.

“You could buy the whole continent with this much.”

“I don’t need to. They’re already pledging themselves to me just so I’d save them from starvation and give them their revenge.”

“So what’s your intention will all this?” He asked, gesturing behind himself.

She hummed.

“I plan on keeping the continent fed and healthy until the winter is over. Make some preparations and changes along the way. Then, if spring comes, we’ll begin to put some of my plans in motion. I want theatre and a common library in the capital. At least. Pulling some businesses under the crown, so there could be no abuse of the poor.”

“Such as?”

“Shelters, orphanages, brothels.”

He grinned and offered her the bracelet.

“I can’t wait to see it.”

An Unsullied came over to them, bowing his head.

_“My queen. The first portion is ready.”_

_“We’re coming.”_

She whispered to her children while the Unsullied got on them. They would have to do this journey so many times. Flying here to the tower, waiting for her men to collect as much treasure as they can, bring them to the ships and then repeat the process all over again. She felt terrible for asking this of them. They were tired already, their short rest in Meeren wasn’t enough. They had to deal with her grief, thus they couldn’t rest properly. Just another thing to feel guilty for.

***

The tower had so much treasures in it, it could’ve cowered the debt to the Iron Bank at least ten times. With this much, Daenerys will make the Seven Kingdoms prosper. They can buy more than enough food and wood for everyone to have a comfortable winter, even in the North. She took every dozens of valyrian steel she has found, blades, spears, arrows and daggers.

She had found things that years ago would’ve woken a terrible vanity in her. Countless accessories and crowns made in the style of Valyria. She had them all shipped along with the gold and jewels. There were books, tried by the years, but still together and some of them even readable. She ordered them to be handled with outmost care until they can be copied.

Finally, she had found the room of the dragon eggs on one of the lowest floors, close to the bottom. She felt the heat radiate from them even before she stepped foot inside. They were like huge jewels, radiant in the firelight. One was pale white with silver, another golden and ruby, and the third one violet and magenta.

She touched them, her eyes filled with tears and felt them go warm at her touch. They were put into a heavy chest, the key to its lock always hanging under her armor. Speaking of armor, she found one in the chamber of the eggs. She never saw metal like that before. It was pitch black, consuming all of the light from the torches. In many ways it resembled her own, telling her that this was a Dragon Rider’s armor.

“I’ve never seen metal like that.” Daario said, enchanted by the sight. “Not to mention fabric like this.” Meaning the huge dark, light consuming cape that was attached to the shoulder plates.

_“You wish to take this one too, my queen?”_

Did she? The armor’s pattern was like dragon scales, with wide and slender shoulder. It weighed much less than her own. The only thing it lacked was her metal cape and the helmet. Instead of the helmet, it had a crown. Daenerys shuddered whenever she looked at the pitch black crown.

Its form resembled thorns and spikes. The part that would be placed on her forehead resembled a circlet with a huge ruby in the middle. As the metal crawled towards the back of the wearer’s head, the spikes reached higher and higher, yet the thorny vines remained at the bottom.

_I do._ She wanted to say. She was captivated by this armor as soon as she laid eyes on it. But she didn’t know if it would fit. This metal wasn’t like anything she had seen before. If it doesn’t fit, there would be no way to reforge it into her size. She would rather leave it behind in the empire where it belongs than take it to south just be showed around.

“_I’ll try it on. If it doesn’t fit, we will leave it.”_

It took them almost an hour to figure out the armor and get it onto her. Halfway into the dressing and she knew it would fit. The armor was composed of many part and it was able to align with the body of the wearer. When she was finally in it, she looked at her reflection in a polished shield. It seemed like she was dressed into the shadows themselves. The cape was made of a heavy, pitch black fabric, even longer than her metal one.

The crown made her feel uneasy however. The ruby on the forehead reflected the light in a strange way, as if it was a third eye.

She swallowed her nervousness and raised it above her head. She felt like this was the only crown that could fit the Mother of Ashes. A Crown of Thorns. Part of her wished that it would be uncomfortable. Heavy. Painful to wear. Anything to punish her for those souls she burned in Dragon’s Bay. If no one was willing to punish her, to hold her accountable, then she would punish herself.

She put it on.

Her head was suddenly filled with countless images and she felt herself scream and stagger. The Unsullied were quick on their feet and removed the crown as soon as they saw the ruby blaze vibrant red in the reflection. It must have been only a few seconds, yet she felt like it was years.

Taking huge gasps of air, she fought back her headache and straightened herself.

“_Yes. We will take this too.”_

***

They reached Dragonstone one month later. She had even sent a ship to Volantis to claim her gifts. As much as she never wanted to step a foot inside the City of the Red God ever again, she promised the freed men that she would send for the gifts. She didn’t want to upset them by implicating that their gifts weren’t appreciated.

When she landed on the Cliff of Dragons, her Council was waiting for her, though not her Commanders, nor Missandei. They must have gone to Winterfell about two weeks ago. If things were going smoothly, they would reach the castle in two weeks more. She would catch up to them in ten days.

Lord Varys and Lord Tyrion had wary looks on their faces, trying and failing to mask their nervousness. The news of the rebellion in Volantis and the Siege of Dragon’s Bay must have reached them by now, via Lord Varys’s little birds. She was in her old armor, the new one not fit for long travel yet. Lady Ellaria, Lord Willas and Lady Olenna looked worried.

Once she stepped down from the saddle and removed her helmet, all of them gasped. Fair enough. Her grief and guilt caused her insomnia and she wasn’t able to eat much. Now there were dark circles under her eyes, her gaze so much heavier.

“I suppose you all have heard what happened in Essos.” Was the first thing she said.

“Bits and pieces.” The Master of Whisperer confessed.

She nodded.

“I’ll tell you everything in the War Room.”

***

She tried to remain strong. Since the Siege of Dragon’s Bay, she burst into tears more times than she could count, though luckily only when no one saw her. But as she reached the part where Euron began to taunt her about the burned people, she broke down. She felt her hand being clenched protectively by her old paramour, who was sitting beside her. They were all horrified of her tale. The wariness that was present in Lord Tyrion and Lord Varys evaporated and sympathy gained its place. This only made her cry more, though she didn’t tell them.

“Children! Little children, burned and massacred!”

Everyone consoled her the best they could. They gave her water and whispered that it wasn’t her fault, but she couldn’t believe them.

“Tell me how the war goes. Derail my thoughts please.”

“The siege is going as good as possible Your Grace. We already began to extract the willing people. But we found something under the city that is really concerning.” Lord Tyrion was cracking his fingers nervously. “Wildfire.”

Daenerys blinked at him.

“How much?”

“Enough to blow everything up in King’s Landing.”

She hummed, a plan already forming in her always restless mind.

“Extract that too. We’ll need at least a thousand pots. It’ll will come handy in the Great War. Exchange the rest of it with water. Leave some in the pots on the top, should anyone check on it, the color must be matching green.”

All of them nodded. Lord Tyrion explained to her that they already began to get rid of it. They’ll take the pots back full of water as she asked, and ship a good portion of it to North. They’ll write to Theon Greyjoy, who was in command of the siege of Blackwater Bay. About ten ships will deliver the substance to White Harbor and from that, carts will take it to Winterfell.

When every matter was discussed, she requested to be left alone for a few moments. She planned to wash her face and brush her hair, since she wanted to go to the forge and request her metal cape being put on her new armor. She also wanted to know if her helmet could be modified to match her crown.

All of them left her alone, except for Lord Varys. She had a general idea about what he might be thinking, but couldn’t know anything for sure.

“Your Grace. Are you feeling well?” His voice was impossibly soft.

“I’m not.” She confessed, looking outside. “But I’ll do what’s necessary. I’ve brought enough treasure to make this continent prosper again. Should I perish in the war, you are welcome to use it. And if I come back, I have plans… I could really use some logical advice now.”

He sat down across from her and pushed the small cup towards her on the table.

“Your Grace, I know this is the last thing you want to hear right now, but you need to be strong. You are the only one who could nurture this land back to happiness. Mourn and honor the dead, but don’t let it chain you down.”

“I feel as I’m just a shadow of myself. Tainted. Like my father.”

“You are _nothing _like your father.” His vehemence surprised her. “Your father would’ve never mourned for the people that were killed by his command, accident or not. You still have your heart, even if it bleeds. Especially because it bleeds.”

Daenerys looked at him and allowed herself to nurture a dry smile. She really hoped that he was right.

***

Lord Tyrion later confessed to her that his brother joined the army on their way to the North. She was too tired to argue with him or yell at him. He said that the King in the North himself requested it, since they were in dire need of experienced military commanders. She took her time expressing her displeasure at the two of them to decide the fate of _her _important prisoner of war, without her consent, but in the end didn’t punish him. Would she have been here, she would’ve given her permission anyway.

That didn’t mean she would forget the issue, or that she won’t bring it up to the King in the North too, once she met him again. They will talk about this privately, just the two of them. She would make it clear that she didn’t appreciate their move, but they would move on after that. She wouldn’t sour her relationship with the North over one man when she knew how desperate King Jon was for every soldier that could raise a sword.

The blacksmiths stared at her new armor in open wonder. They promised that the changes would be ready by the next morning. They were planning on adding the belts and the heels with another layer, making it compatible with her saddle. They would even relocate her metal cape, through promised to keep the huge dark one over the metal.

The helmet would take more time and they would need the crown to be left there until they could make a circlet for comparison. She didn’t have any problem with that, but didn’t want to leave the crown in the forge. She used it every night sine she found it. She found out that the effects would manifest if the ruby touched her forehead. She used it for hours every night. It was painful and most likely very unhealthy, but the nightmares began to subside and she felt like she was getting better from it.

Walking up to her quarters she let out a deep sigh. She was helped in taking a bath and forced down some simple dinner. Lady Olenna, Lady Ellaria, along with the Sand Snakes and her ladies-in-waiting kept her company.

They went over her new jewelries. She gifted them a good portion too, since she had so much she couldn’t possibly wear all of them. Lord Willas promised that he would begin the copying of the old tomes as soon as possible.

When the time of sleep came for everyone else, she was left alone in her quarters. Daario offered to stay, but she sent him to get some sleep in an actual bed and don’t play statue outside her door. She took her crown from the chest, already given back by the blacksmiths, and put it on with a sight. It still hurt to wear it for long, the noises making her head ache, ears ring, and sometimes it made her eyes tear up. But it calmed her.

The eggs had their own pillows on her bed ready for them, but for now, she was sitting across the fireplace, with them in her arms, caressing them slowly and murmuring sweet nothing to them, just like she did with her first ‘nest’. The crown was tame when she had them in her arms. They were the only consolation she had besides her sons.

“You are tortured.”

She glanced towards the source of the voice. Bran Stark, the Three Eyed Raven was sitting on the side of her bed, looking at her with as much sympathy as his emotionless face could communicate.

“Do you know what happened?”

“I do. I saw it, though no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t warn you. You were too far away.”

She felt her throat tighten.

“Thank you for the effort.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

She nodded, reigning back the tears that prickled her eyes.

“You are stronger here?” She asked, trying to change the subject.

“I am. My magic originates from the Land of Always Winter. From the weirwood trees.”

“Your magic?”

“I can see the past and the present. Occasionally I even get a glance at the future. I can see through the eyes of animals and people. And, if someone is powerful enough to hold me, I can even talk to them in directly through their minds. Like I’m doing now.”

She caressed the silver egg slowly, feeling a chill run through her body.

“I don’t feel too strong right now.”

“You are stronger than before, but tamer. That tragedy took a great portion of your will.”

She swallowed and nodded.

“Where are you now? Can we reach you? Do you need help?”

He smiled at her at this, though it was a small thing.

“I am safely home at Winterfell. I arrived about two weeks earlier. Thank you though. For wanting to help me.”

They sat in a silence for a while. His presence was so much stronger here, in Westeros. He wasn’t transparent anymore, though that may be because she was sure she was in some kind of dream like state again, just like she was in Volantis. He was younger than her, maybe around his fifteenth name’s day. After a while, she realized that his gaze wasn’t so empty she originally presumed. He was just muted.

“Jon and your armies left White Harbor about a week ago. If you fly out in the next three days, you can reach them before they arrive at Winterfell. Of course, you can rest if you want. The Night King is still far beyond the wall, though he comes closer each day.”

“You can see him?”

“He marked me. We always know where the other is.”

“Marked you?”

“I am this world’s memory. If he kills me, his powers would multiply. He is death. Forgetting. I am remembrance. He needs to extinguish me in order to spread winter across the whole world.”

He showed her his mark. It looked blue and painful, like the handprints Viserys used to leave on her body after his temper had flared. She had a feeling this one wouldn’t fade over time like hers did.

“Does it hurt?”

“Sometimes.”

She took a glance at the eggs, always checking upon them instinctively like a mother does with her babes, even when they are in her arms.

“They were waiting for you. They can feel the presence of your sons too.”

“Will they hatch?” She couldn’t help but sound hopeful.

“I cannot say for sure. They have a chance. A higher chance than the first three had.” He looked outside her balcony, where the night was the darkest. “Your armor will be ready soon. I should go now.”

She nodded absentmindedly. They gave each other small smiles, one poisoned by grief and desperation, the other muted by ancient magic. But that was enough for them.


	12. Chapter 12

She spent six days on Dragonstone, mostly to let her sons rest.

It was decided that her council would not follow her to North. The siege could come to a conclusion in any days now. They will begin to set her plans in motion for her, preparing the city and the lords to the coronation and the trials. They were mostly all politicians and scholars anyway. Should the worst come to pass and all of them fail, they’ll need to try to evacuate as many people from Westeros as possible.

Her armor was done come the third day. The helmet took up the majority of the time.

It needed to be redesigned to fit her crown, which she put on every night for a few hours, when she was alone in her quarters. On the way back to Westeros, she did this every night too. At first, all she experienced was agonizing white noise. It was strange to admit, but the self-punishment helped her to some extent. It felt like the lives she had taken are slowly being paid for. Until the crown came across her path, she always felt like the death of her subjects was dismissed in order to spare her the punishment. Everyone else considered this a tragic victory at worst. Her last enemy found his death in her son’s mouth, his followers consumed by fires of ‘unknown origin’.

She had a feeling that the crown had similar powers to Bran Stark, or her own sight. That part didn’t really interest her. She swore off of magic. Maybe, sometime in the future she would be strong enough to move on from the tragedy and silence the voices completely. Maybe one day this crown will be nothing but a reminder that she needed to keep her strength in check and her guard up every second of her life.

When she wore it with the helmet, the effect was negated, since the ruby didn’t touch her forehead, blocked by the metal.

On the third day, she was exercising on the Cliff of Dragons, wearing her new armor, getting used to the lighter weight. She kept practicing all through her journey to Essos, and she was getting pretty decent at combat. She was years away from being an expert, but she could defend herself against mindless dead people, should the need arise. It helped that the armor was impossibly light. She was so curious about the origin of this metal.

She was in the middle of a jump that Obara was insistent on her learning, when she noticed a few of her stationed Dothraki heading towards her. She went on with the exercise, intending to finish the line of movement. They stopped at a fair distance and allowed her to finish in peace.

When she was done, she sighed and pushed her fingers into her hair. She often did this nowadays, enjoying how these less forgiving breezes crept under her locks.

“_This man says he is a friend of yours Khaleesi.”_

Hearing this strange news, she turned around and felt her heart skip a beat. It was Jorah. Jorah was here! That means he must have found a cure.

“_He is my friend.”_ She managed to say before throwing herself into his arms, holding on tightly.

He hugged her back like his life depended on it. Once they were alone, they began to walk back towards the fortress.

“How did you find a cure?”

“It was a young maester novice in the Citadel, Samwell Tarly. He tried a risky treatment, endangering his own health in the process and managed to stop the infection.”

“It seems like this Samwell Tarly is full of miracles. His good friend, the King in the North already told me about some of his deeds. We shall reward him handsomely as soon as he comes back to Westeros.”

“I believe he is already here, Khaleesi. He probably went to North. Who is the King in the North anyway? How could he hold that title?”

“We came to an agreement. The North won its independence and wished to keep it. We made a long term alliance to make sure they won’t go hungry, and in exchange, they’ll pay me back in the next thirty years.”

They went into the Great Forge. She had five of them now, though the four extras were hastily made in time of need. Nevertheless, they created a practical and acceptable work environment. They were still working on weapons that would be sent to Winterfell. She ordered him an armor fit for a Commander.

“A war against the dead?” He seemed to be a little skeptic, holding one of the dragon glass infused arakhs.

“You know of my visions my friend. I’ve seen them. And the gods have mercy on us, if we aren’t prepared to the fullest by the time they arrive.”

He didn’t argue any further. She gifted him one of the valyrian swords she had brought back from the old stronghold. Her own was sword black as grief, with rubies red as fire, always on her hip. _Remembrance. _It was named make sure its wielder would always remember who they were serving and who were they honoring.

“It’s magnificent.” He said, looking at the blade in awe.

“It’s yours.” She said, smiling.

“Then it shall be named _Queenshield.”_ He said and bent the knee.

He said the wows with stars in his eyes, still looking at her like she was the most precious thing in the world. This made her gut churn, her thoughts flashing back to the thousand meerenese who were consumed by her dragon’s fire, but managed to keep her smile. This was their moment.

She accepted his wows with a gracious smile and with a kiss upon his brow.

They walked back to the War Room. Daario was there, engaged in a drinking game with Lord Tyrion. Both of them had intense gleams in their eyes, leaned forward in their seats. Lord Tyrion was about to say something when the sound of the door opening drew their attention.

“Ser Jorah Mormont!” Grinned Daario and stood. “I can’t believe you. Back from the mouth of death once more. I’m starting to believe that there is no force in this world that could keep you from our queen’s service.”

While he said that, he reached out with his right hand, grin still in place. The knight was surprised by the warm welcome, and even more surprised by Daario’s gesture, since the last time they’ve seen each other, he still had a deadly, infectious disease. When they gripped each other’s forearms, the former sell sword patted him on the back.

“Come, drink with us. Both of you are welcome to play.”

“I’m afraid I have to decline, but thank you for your offer.” Daenerys said with a smile. “You three catch up. I’ll go and see how the mines are progressing.”

When Jorah wanted to follow her, claiming that it was for her protection, the other two men laughed.

“There’s no soul on this island who doesn’t love her. And if there would be, well…” Lord Tyrion said, indicating with his head towards the window. Outside, her children were playing in the sunlight. “Her sons are very protective.”

***

On the sixth day, her helmet and Ser Jorah’s armor were finished and she was ready to go. Ser Jorah and Daario insisted on going with her, and wouldn’t hear word that said otherwise. She said her goodbyes on the Cliff of Dragons. Her advisors wished her a safe journey, a quick and easy war and a safe homecoming. She kissed every one of them on the cheek and thanked them for their support. After all, she didn’t know if she would ever see them again.

She chose to leave Lord Tyrion on Dragonstone. He would need to rule while she was away in the North.

When they climbed onto Drogon, she caressed the new saddle. This was an updated version of her old one, allowing easier access, quicker ways to settle in and even two more possible seats. Ser Jorah’s armor was made to match the saddle. Though he couldn’t ride the dragon on his own, he would be fastened in just like Daenerys was, despite missing a metal cape.

Daario too had a flight suit, since he didn’t like armor that much. It was mostly composed by two special boots and a belt to keep him safe like the rest of the passengers. He sat behind Ser Jorah on the saddle, enjoying the view and the experience.

The helmet not only fit the crown, it had four small clasps she could turn to keep the crown in place should she need to maneuver like she did in the Battle of Highgarden.

Besides that, there were three strong bags for the three dragon eggs. She wouldn’t leave them behind for anything. Their presence calmed her just like her sons did. Guilt and regret tortured her less when there were children she could focus on, letting her motherly instincts derail her thoughts.

“This is amazing.” Her sweet bear confessed once they were in the air.

“It will get better. Or worse, depending on how you handle loops.”

“Loops?” Daario’s startled exclaim was met with laughter.

This was the first time she laughed since the Siege of the Meeren. Ser Jorah grabbed her waist for dear life at the first loop, and Daario did the same with his. It took a few minutes until they got used to it, but after that they were baffled with amazement, Daario letting out a few victorious whoops. She loved them so much. Not like a lover or paramour, but like two protectors.

They understood her devastation at the death of her people and her anger at the Red God. She was pretty sure that would the Lord of Light be a real person, or even a god in human form, her bear would punch him in the face, and Daario would kick him in the balls a few times.

The journey to the North was long. They improved her mood so much that none of them noticed how time flew by. They talked about so many things. Their life before they met. Ser Jorah told her about the rebellion and about the goods and the bads of King Robert’s rule. She told him about them about life on the run. Daario spoke about his childhood, which wasn’t a very happy story, but he managed to aim high and reach even higher, so there was a happy ending at least.

She told them about the rebellion in Volantis and spoke about the ruins of Old Valyria, with Daario chipping in with his own experiences.

They spoke about anything and everything and she never felt more grateful for anyone in her life. Her dragons loved them, she loved them and they loved all four of them. Ser Jorah caressed the dragon eggs, never forgot to put them in the fire first before they began to make food for themselves and generally was the best influence she could hope for.

Daario gave her new lessons in combat and she realized that she adored practicing with him. He was quick on his feet and a dirty player, which often resulted on her landing on her butt. It helped her expect the unexpected. She was getting better and better every day.

Her bear guided their way towards Winterfell.

The first thing she noticed was the seemingly endless camp outside the castle. Her sigil dominated the field along with a few Stark Direwolfs and the skulls and spear of the Golden Company. She saw the elephants too. People on the ground noticed their arrival. She took a few lazy circles around the castle, giving time for the northern court to gather comfortably.

When she saw the movement more or less cease on the courtyard, she sent Viserion and Rhaegal towards the camp. There was a small hill besides the Dothraki camps. That would be perfect for her sons. Drogon will join them too as soon as his rider and passengers were on the ground.

Her biggest son glided lazily towards the castle, making a gentle landing right outside the gates. Despite his enormous size, Drogon was pretty graceful and careful when he wanted to be. The dragon eggs were already in Ser Jorah’s bag, so all they had to do is unfasten themselves and get down.

Once they were steady on the ground, Drogon left to join his siblings.

The Unsullied and the Dothraki formed a line for her until the gates. When she entered, she felt the whole northern court put every inch of her to the scale, taking on her battle armor, her billowing upper cape and the metallic one under, still clasped to her gloves, the sword on her side and the crown on her helmet. She removed said helmet halfway to the King and handed it to Ser Jorah.

“King in the North.”

“Queen in the South.”

He was nervous. She could understand that. Every movement of their body was important here, every fickle of expression, every word that left her mouth. She decided to give him a teasing smile, glad that her friends gave back some of her strength and life on the journey here.

“I saw an army outside. Are you planning a campaign? Should I be worried?”

He chuckled, returning the smile.

“Not about these soldiers. Last I heard we had a common enemy.”

She nodded to him, clasping her hands before herself.

“That we do, Your Grace. Only one enemy matters and that one lacks our main attribute. I’m told they don’t tend to breathe.”

He smiled wider and turned halfway towards his family. Three people were at the front. The tall woman must have been Sansa Stark of Winterfell, the Fire Kissed Ice Queen. Daenerys gave her an honest and hopeful smile.

“My eldest sister, Princess Sansa Stark of Winterfell.”

“Your Grace.”

“Your Highness. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. His Grace told me much about you. Though his words didn’t give your beauty justice. That’s good news. If you are twice as smart as he described you, the North will know a hundred years of prosperity.”

The corner of the young woman’s mouth twitched upwards and her eyes became a little warmer, though she was still mistrustful. That didn’t matter. Daenerys never expected to be loved by them immediately. She could work herself up, she only needed to play honest and respectful.

The next girl she was introduced to was, to her utter surprise, The Mystery Girl!

“My second sister, Princess Arya Stark of Winterfell.”

The girl scowled.

“I’m not a princess. I’m just Arya.”

The King’s smile tightened and she could see the elder sister’s posture become more rigid. Many lords became nervous in the crowd too, anticipating the foreign queen’s reaction to this blatant disregard of propriety. Daenerys smirked at the girl.

“As you wish, ‘Just Arya’.” She pointedly looked down at the sword on the girl’s side, ignoring the King biting his lip beside her, trying to hide his amusement at the deepened scowl of his sister. “I take you are a warrior then. Perhaps you can teach me sometimes.”

The scowl disappeared and its place was taken by surprise and a little wariness.

“Really?”

“Of course. Though I have on condition.”

Again, there was the nervous energy.

“And what is that?”

Daenerys grinned.

“You’ll have to call me just Daenerys then.”

This time Arya returned the grin, just as sharp as Dany’s own, but resembling more of a wolf than a dragon.

“I can do that, ‘Just Daenerys’”.

There were a few laughs in the crowd and Daenerys was delighted by the fact that she was already beginning on the right foot with these northerners. Arya clearly liked her and Princess Sansa lost another portion of her rigidness. She could see Ser Davos in the second line with a gentle and pleased smile on his face. The last in the first line was a familiar face once again.

“And my brother Prince Bran Stark… the Three Eyed Raven.” The title was added reluctantly, as if he was having a hard time wrapping his head around the magic of his brother.

“Face to face at last.” The boy said with a small smile.

He was in a wheelchair. She remembered the King mentioning his brother’s injury. She completely forgot about it, since in her first vision he was standing like any other person and sitting in the second. It didn’t stagger her much, as her smile became gentler.

“Yes. It’s a pleasure to properly meet you Bran.”

“Likewise Daenerys. I hope you wouldn’t be averse to the idea of meeting me in the godswood before dinner? There are some things I wish to show you.”

“Of course. I’ll meet you there once I’ve talked to everyone.”

The King, and everyone else really, was looking at them with surprised and puzzled expressions. It was her time to speak and make introductions.

“You’ve already met part of my court, Your Grace. Let me introduce you to our new Commanders, Ser Jorah Mormont.” She gestured towards the knight on her right, who bowed his head and muttered a soft ‘Your Grace’, to which the King gave a soft smile and a ‘Ser’. The she gestured to her left. “And Daario Naharis. He is Captain of the Second Sons.”

She had a stern talk with the man while they were practicing yesterday, saying that she would not have him disrespect the northern royal family and put her to shame. He’ll bow his head to the king and address him with his proper title. After that, he can avoid the other monarch to his heart’s desire, but she wouldn’t tolerate him disrespecting her allies, especially not before the whole northern court.

“Your Grace.” Daario said, a smirk playing on his lips as he bowed his head.

He was thinking about jests and insults, no doubt. As long as he keeps them to himself, she didn’t care.

“Captain.”

After this, the yard came to life once more. The King in the North offered his hospitality, which they of course accepted and the people began to go to their way. Princess Sansa offered to show them her room and she gladly took the opportunity. Winterfell was surprisingly warm on the inside. The Princess told her that Missandei already had her own room next to hers, as she was her representative until her arrival. The room she was led to was large, beautifully furnished and had a warm atmosphere.

“It’s wonderful. Thank you, Your Highness.”

“It’s alright Your Grace. Feel free to feel at home. I shall take my leave now. I’m organizing a feast for your arrival.”

“I’m honored, but please don’t burden yourself. It was me who arrived without a word.”

“No, it’s quite alright. I’m sure many would want to meet you personally and we could use every excuse to celebrate now. Feel that we are alive.”

“That we do Your Highness. In that case, I am grateful for your excellent hospitality.”

Princess Sansa left after that. Ser Jorah put down his bag to the table, while Daario took a seat and began to eat some of the cheeses and fruits that were served.

“Where should I put them, Your Grace?” Her bear knight asked, gesturing towards the eggs.

“In the fireplace. I shall make a fire in a few minutes.”

Just then, Missandei came and hugged her tightly. She returned the fierce hug. She missed her friend dearly. The young naathi girl was dressed in furs. The cold must’ve been uncomfortable for her essosi friends and soldiers. She hoped that this war wouldn’t stretch out longer than a year at most. They’ll be in trouble otherwise.

“I missed all of you.” She smiled at Grey Worm and Qhono, who were standing closer to the door.

“_Khaleesi. We made a tent for you in the middle of the camp. If you get tired of the ramblings of the Lamb People, you are welcome to sit with us.”_

She let out a laugh.

“_I’ll keep that in mind. After all, we rather resolve our own fights in private. Let my khalasar know that if anyone has an issue they want me to deal with, I’ll be at the tent for a few hours every day.”_

This made the man grin. They loved to spend time in her presence. A Khal always needs to be close to the khalasar, and a Khaleesi is no exception. She would sit with them for a few hours a day, make sure they have everything, or just simply enjoy each other’s presence.

She felt a little bad about the lack of trust she was about to do, but she figured if no one knows, no harm can come from it. It’ll only be for a short time until she was sure that her rooms weren’t searched or the lords became a little less displeased with her presence here.

This opened up an opportunity and she had a change of plans.

“_Daario, you’ll take residence in said tent. You’ll be my representative there until I can go personally. And you’ll take the dragon eggs with you. They’ll be safe with you and the Khalasar around them.”_

Daario, who was decent enough in Dothraki, grinned and nodded at her.

“_Anything to get away from this frozen ass court. Your children will be safe with us.”_

Just then, a faint knock was audible on the door. Missandei opened it, only to find a young girl, barely thirteen, standing there looking nervous. She did a trebling curtsy, but didn’t dare to look at Daenerys directly. This made her heart ache, though she pushed down the sentiment.

“Can we do anything for you, my dear?” She asked in her softest motherly voice she could manage.

“His Grace wished to know if Your Grace would be avali… avail… free for an army insp…”

“Army inspection?” She asked with a smile, hunching down a little.

“Yes!”

“Tell His Grace that I’ll be down in the yard in a minute. Thank you sweetheart. Here, have some sweets. It will be our secret.”

She winked at the girl while presenting her the trail Missandei has brought from the table. The little girl was wary at first, but once the gift was in her small hands, she grinned a happy smile and curtsied again, now much easier. Once the door was closed, she sent Grey Worm and Qhono to get the armies ready for an army inspection. Daario would take the eggs to her tent now, while Missandei would remain in her room and speak to anyone who wishes to talk to the queen before the feast. Once everyone went to their way, she walked down to the courtyard, Ser Jorah in her tow.

King Jon was already there, speaking with Ser Davos who spotted her approaching and quickly alerted his king to her presence.

“Your Grace. Lord Hand.” She said, smiling.

“Your Grace. Ser Jorah.” He answered and looked a little sheepish. “I apologize for doing this so quickly when you’ve just arrived.”

“Nothing to apologize for. It’s best we know our numbers and plans as soon as possible.”

They began to walk towards the enormous war camp outside the castle.

“I believe word haven’t reached you yet, but a special shipment is on its way here. We found wildfire under King’s Landing, which is extracted as we speak, and a good portion of it will be brought here, as we discussed.”

The King’s smile grew.

“That is a relief. I was worrying about where could we find a maester who could produce the substance.”

“Also, I’ve been to the valyrian ruins.” The two men’s bafflement, she went on. “We found a dozen untouched treasuries. We can all rest easy now. Even if winter lasts for ten years, we have enough gold to buy food for all the Seven Kingdoms. We also found valyrian steel. Sadly not enough to arm every man in this army, but we could provide at least a hundred swords and just as much spears and daggers for this war.”

The King in the North looked amazed.

“Every time I think you couldn’t provide more, you prove me wrong.”

“As I said before Your Grace, I aim to please.”

They’ve reached the clearing that was left in the middle of the camp. Around said clearing were the tents of the various Commanders who preferred to remain with their soldiers. Her own tent was there too. Her blood riders made an excellent job. It was a tent worthy of a Khaleesi.

And in the middle of the clearing was the War Tent. Beside it stood a man. He had young features, blond hair and clear eyes. His armor was on point, so were his weapons. She saw the King in the North scowl a little as they came closer.

“You must be Captain Harry Strickland.”

“I am. And you must be Daenerys Targaryen. Our employer.”

Daenerys began to think that this kind of smug behavior was the main attribute of all sell swords. What are they so proud of, she would never know. But since she was on a familiar ground, she knew how to thread. The warmth disappeared from her face, but the smile remained, sharp and cutting.

“That I am. Which is why you will address me as ‘Your Grace’. You’ll also do so with the King in the North here, less you wish to make me displeased. You won’t like me when I’m displeased Captain.”

His smug smile disappeared for a second. When he drew breath to retort, she continued.

“I am a generous person, Captain. You’ve been paid for one year of service, in advance, just to see my seriousness. I am also someone who can be easily pleased, if one doesn’t go out of their way to displease me. And if I pleased, I rub my fingers together and gold will appear. I’m told you like gold.”

He sighed, clearly not pleased, but his posture became much more respectful, even if it was false. Daenerys felt a smirk tingle the corner of her lips. He wouldn’t leave, that would ruin the whole Company’s reputation. He took the stick with dignity. She was curious how much would he do for the carrot. If they would be useful in this war, she would compensate them greatly for their losses. No need to tell him that in advance.

“As you wish Your Grace. I apologize for my words Your Grace.” The second was aimed towards the King in the North, who nodded.

The King didn’t look smug at all, just relieved. It must have been a terrible situation, being disrespected by someone and not being able to punish them just because you need their help. She didn’t like how he let people walk all over him. It was a respectable and admirable trait, being able to swallow one’s dignity for the sake of the greater good, but there had to be a line. An authority questioned is hallway towards a broken dynasty.

Nevertheless, she derailed her attention back to the Captain.

“Good. Now that we’ve been over that, I’d like to meet your officers. I’ll hear about their advantages and disadvantages, so we can plan accordingly. Gather them to the War Tent as soon as possible.”

After he was gone, they went inside. Some of the Commanders were already there. Daario was sitting on a chair, picking his fingernails with a dagger. Grey Worm was also standing in the tent, along with Qhono. Some northern lords and a fierce looking little northern lady along with the Prince, the Princess and Arya.

There was a man dressed in furs who had fire kissed hair and clear blue eyes. This was the first time she had seen anyone from the Free Folk. This must be Tormund. And then there was Ser Jaime Lannister, who tried his best not to make eye contact.

She walked past Daario, who jumped onto his feet and drew out her chair. When he was given a raised eyebrow, he just grinned. She remained standing, but put her helmet on the seat, claiming it for herself now. The sell sword just shrugged and got back to his own chair.

“Your Grace, allow me to introduce my friend, Tormund Giantsbane. He is the temporary leader of the Free Folk. Tormund, this is Queen Daenerys Stormborn of the house Targaryen.”

“A southern queen with a strong name. Stormborn. You sound fierce.”

Daenerys ginned at the ginger.

“Thank you, Tormund. I can’t wait to hear the story behind your name. Giantsbane. I imagine that would be quite a tale.”

He grinned back and laughed.

“That is true! We shall talk about it tonight at the feast!”

He then introduced the northern lords present. Daenerys saw the mistrust in their eyes and it hurt, yet she showed none of it. She remembered the king’s explanation about the origin of this mistrust towards southern rulers. The only lady present was introduced as Lady Lyanna Mormont. She was a fierce one, Daenerys could tell that right away. Her expression and composure told the story of a strong backbone and an even stronger moral compass.

“We took the liberty of making some plans. If you’d like to add anything, your words would be greatly appreciated.” King Jon said.

“I can see that.” She hummed, looking over the map. “I’m far from a military expert. That’s why I’ve brought my Commanders. Daario, Ser Jorah, if you mind?”

She beckoned both Grey Worm and Qhono closer too. The four men considered the strategies laid out before them, making a few suggestions here and there. After they were ready, the plan looked good. Better by miles than the one her vision had shown her on Dragonstone.

It contained three trenches full of pitch, as well as a flagged field of wildfire that could be lit by the archers. Between the first pots of wildfire and the woods were many cut down trees, ones that would function as natural defense. The wights would get caught up in them. Behind the first trench, a good portion her riders would spread out, keeping the wights in check and possibly signal retreat, should a trench fall. Between the second and third trench were watchtowers made of wood, manned with Dothraki archers.

The Golden Company’s two thousand men cavalry will stand there too between the watchtowers, creating a hard barrier between the Unsullied and the enemy for a time, only retreating before the third trench will be lit. The foot soldiers would stand with the Unsullied, who would make their stand behind the last trench. They’ll protect the castle from the wights that managed to get past the fires.

Inside the castle were trebuchets. The rest of her Dothraki archers were placed on the walls, so they can abuse their excellent archery skills. The Northerners and the Free Folk were mostly tasked by protecting the castle, making sure that retreat is possible.

Since no one knew yet the advantages and disadvantages of the war elephants, they’ll plan for them once Captain Stickland and his officers arrive.

“What about those who need protection? The civilians?” She asked, her mind already preparing for the worst.

_Be the most skeptic in the War Room, and the most optimist in the Battlefield. _She had read in one of the books. Always count on the worst and hope for the best. That meant that the vulnerable people should be considered carefully.

“We decided that the crypts would be an ideal and easily protectable place for them.”

Both she and Daario froze at the Hand of the King’s words. They looked at each other in bafflement, trying to find out from the other’s expression if they had heard it right. When she saw the same disbelief in his eyes she must have carried in her own, she turned back to the war council. They were looking at her curiously.

“You say we will fight someone who’s bringing all the dead people back to life…” She started, and Daario finished.

“And we’ll put the women and children in a crypt… with all the dead people?”

She could see how the words sunk into the minds of everyone as their eyes grew wider. No one was able to speak for a few heavy seconds. Some lords coughed, trying to hide their embarrassment, while Arya let out a sight of disbelief. Princess Sansa was looking a little ashen. No doubt she would’ve been one of the people inside the crypts.

Daenerys, trying to cover up the awkward situation, decided to give a suggestion on her own.

“How about we send the civilians to White Harbor? They’ll be safe there for the time being and they could flee more easily, in case we fail.”

The King coughed, giving her a grateful expression before saying.

“We could tell them this option exist, but I can’t promise that they’ll go.”

Daenerys frowned.

“With all due respect Your Grace. You are their King. If you know that they would be safer there, order them to safety. They don’t have to like your every decision. A monarch rather have their people grumpy than dead, I say.” She sighed then. “But you are the King of this land. Do as you please.”

After that there wasn’t much to be talked about. Captain Strickland arrived with his officers. Daenerys made quick acquaintances with them. There were four of them. Zarrin Skinner, leader of the foot soldiers. A scary looking man with a huge scar on his face, claiming his right eye. Harrion, leader of the cavalry, a young man, around Daenerys’s own age, dark hair, dark eyes and dark skin, accompanied with a charming smile. Shana Hawkeye, leader of the archers, a young woman with a face similar to Missandei, but a personality of a dornish Sand Snake. And finally Gorgo, the Beastmaster of the War Elephants, an old man with thin arms, yet every inch of him was lean muscle.

All of them addressed her and the king properly, though their respect dried out after that towards anyone else. Just like any sell swords. Due to the advice of the Beastmaster, the elephants will be used put between the last two trenches. Once the second trench has been lit and after the soldiers had retreated, they can trample over the wights.

With that, the Army Inspection and the War Council was concluded.


	13. Chapter 13

Since her Dothraki tent was close, she went inside to check up on everyone. Her lieutenants were sitting around a fire, chewing on meat and cheering each other up. They didn’t like the cold. Every one of them raised their cup as she entered the tent, welcoming their Khaleesi.

_“Blood of my blood. Does everyone have enough food and shelter?”_

_“We do Khaleesi. We made the tents on the first day and the food is plenty.”_

_“Good. I presume Daario was already here. Send message with him if any one you need me.”_

She ate and drank with them a little, listening to their tales about the road and the events inside the camp so far. She learned this from Drogo. Her late husband always sat with his riders, listening to them intently, always listening and always paying attention. She tried to do the same.

If the khalasar is happy, they fight better, they are more peaceful and she can rest a little easier. She loved her people, but the Dothraki were raised to be bloodthirsty since the crib and it’ll take time until they learn to keep their culture between themselves and not exercise their violent tendencies on her more peaceful subjects.

She left the tent about an hour later. To her surprise, she saw Arya Stark standing at the entrance of the War Tent, keeping an eye on her own. As soon as she emerged and noticed her, the girl came closer with clear intent in her eyes.

“Can I do something for you Arya?”

“Bran sent me to tell you that he is in the godswood already and to ask you to join him.”

“I will. Thank you for telling me.”

The girl seemingly wanted to say something more, but in the end decided against it. They walked towards the enormous form of the weirwood tree. On the way there, she got a handful of mistrustful eyes from lords and small folk alike, which didn’t please her at the least. She didn’t know yet what kind of court etiquette these northerners had, but it hurt to know that the king let his people openly show their displeasure at her presence. As if she was some kind of evil conqueror instead of an ally.

“Don’t mind them. They are just wary of strangers in general.”

Arya’s voice rang true, yet Daenerys couldn’t help but shake her head softly.

“I think it’s more about my family’s reputation. Such a shame. What my father and brother did to your family and country is inexcusable. Personally, I’d officially apologize during the feast, but maybe that would only stroke the fire and sour the mood further.”

The young girl who refused to call herself a princess stopped at this and looked her straight in the eye. Daenerys, who was walking beside her this whole time, barely managed to stop her steps, looking back at her questioningly. A surprisingly warm breeze crept over the yard and made her long dark cape billow, reveling the metal one underneath.

“I think they would greatly appreciate something like that.” Arya finally said, after studying her face for a few seconds.

“Really?”

“Yes. The North has been put through so much because of southern politics, yet no one ever uttered an apology. Not even a false one. But I can tell you are sincere. They’d be able to tell too. It’d mean much.”

Daenerys frowned and turned towards her fully.

“Of course I am sincere. Words need to have meanings. Apologies must be sincere and oaths must be kept at all cost. If I say I’d do something, I’ll do it, be it a reward or a punishment. If I swear that no harm will come to the North while I have any say about it, I mean it. And if I say that my father was a monster and my brother a rapist and I condemn their actions, then I mean that too.”

This time, Arya smiled at her.

“That’s good to hear. Maybe you have some northern blood in you after all.”

Daenerys bit her lip, but the smile was visible all the same. Arya laughed and resumed walking, so she had no choice but to follow her. Ser Jorah, who was silently trailing them for this whole time, smiled affectionately at his queen’s back. He knew she would gain the northerners trust. Anyone who doesn’t love someone so kind and ready to help is either a fool or evil.

They reached the godswood in the next few minutes. Before the weirwood three were two people. One was undoubtedly Bran Stark, welcoming them with a small smile and a slow nod of his head. The other man was dressed in black furs and he was a little rounder compared to the soldiers. He tried to avoid directly looking at her, but she could see him stealing a few glances, poorly hidden excitement clearly visible on his face.

“You came.” The Three Eyed Raven said.

“I said I would.” She then turned outright towards the other man. “And who might you be?”

He looked like a deer who just spotted the dragon, his lips trembling and eyes wide. He said something, but his voice was too high pitched for Daenerys to understand. Luckily, Ser Jorah spoke up behind her.

“He is Samwell Tarly, Your Grace.”

Daenerys looked at her knight, baffled with surprise and then back to the man.

“You are Samwell Tarly? Wonderful! I’ve heard so much about you already. So many things to be thankful for. Your help will be invaluable in this war and I’m in your debt for saving my friend’s life.”

He actually looked like he might faint. Finally, Samwell managed to speak up.

“You honor me Your Grace. I couldn’t ask for anything… but I may use a pardon…”

She was a little caught off guard.

“Pardon? For what crime?”

“I… may have took some books from the Citadel.”

Daenerys began to chuckle at this and nodded.

“It’ll be one of my first royal decree as a queen. I admit, I was hoping I could give you a castle for your services. You are from Hornhill, right?”

“Y-yes Your Grace but my father is the Lord of Hornhill and my brother Dickon is the next in line.”

“Fret not, Samwell. My ally, Lady Olenna was displeased with your father’s decision of standing against us in the Battle of Highgarden. Sadly, I have to inform you that he is now a prisoner of war on Dragonstone until the siege of the capital is done.”

He let out a huge breath, no small amount of relief in it.

“He was always stubborn. At least now I might not have to answer for taking our family’s ancestral sword. Though my brother might want to have it back, once he becomes a lord.”

“Your brother is my ward for now. Depending on his and your father’s decision, Hornhill may need an acting Lord in the future.” She said with a suggestive smile. “Of course, you can choose another castle if you want, once I sit on the Iron Throne and would be able to give away a few.”

“I wouldn’t dare…”

“I must insist. But if you really don’t want a castle, we’ll come up with another reward for you. I want good deeds and accomplishments be properly rewarded under my rule.”

He smiled at her, no longer so nervous or afraid. He was actually beaming with joy and excitement. He left along with Arya and a reluctant Ser Jorah when Bran asked for the two of them to be left alone. She told him to wait at the gates of the godswood and reassured him that she could and would defend herself, though she doubted it would be necessary.

Once the two of them were alone, Bran looked towards the carved face. Daenerys couldn’t help but stare too. Though some might find it disturbing, she felt an unexplainable rush of sadness clench her heart as she looked at it. The dark tears that were streaming down on the two wooden cheeks reminded her of weeping men and women, their face contorted with grief.

“Such a sorrowful sight.” She said, gently wiping away a dark tear. It made her heart sink when another one took its place. “No wonder you northerners always look so hard and gloomy. Your gods are weeping.”

“One can do nothing but weep, if their people have been wiped out.” The Three Eyed Raven said, his usually even voice carried some hidden sadness as well. “The last of the Children of the Forest died protecting me. Death marches towards the lands of the living and the old gods no longer have power to assist us.”

There was a time when Daenerys didn’t believe in gods, not so long ago. But her experiences in Westeros taught her better than to disregard the existence of gods and magic. The common man may never experience the presence of their gods, not like she does. If she concentrated, she could still feel the lingering presence and gaze of the Lord of Light upon herself. Every night she took her crown, closed her mortal eyes and opened up the eye of her soul through the ruby upon her forehead. She used magic to give birth to her sons and blood magic took her family from her.

She knew the gods existed. That just made it more painful to look at the weeping face she was caressing.

“You said you wanted to show something to me.”

“I want to show you many things, but you need to remove your helmet first.”

Casting a curious glance towards the Raven, she did just that, knowing very well what he wanted. It would hurt, now that her dragons and eggs were not beside her. She put the helmet down between the roots, raising the crown to eye level for a few seconds, examining the ruby.

“It’s called a Fire Eye. I want to help you use it.

“I’ve sworn off magic.”

“Then I already know the first thing I will show you.”

It seems that all who dwelled in magic were only capable to speak in riddles. She took a seat, knowing that she would lose her footing anyway and prepared herself for the pain. Some part of her wondered why she trusted this northern sorcerer so much. There was no reason for her to do so. But she felt some kind of connection with him, just like she did with his whole family. The Starks are blessed with the magic of ice, and it was calling to her.

She put on the crown. For a single second, white noise and countless images flooded her mind. Then, a cold hand was placed upon her shoulder, one that she felt through her armor and everything stopped.

Daenerys opened her eyes, gasping for breath. Her whole body was shaking from the icy cold that surrounded her. She had never felt anything like this before. The North, though not a forgiving land, did not torture her like it did with her followers. She could walk in the yards in nothing but a silk gown and the cold wouldn’t touch her.

This one though, this cold was cutting.

“Sorry. I’m still new at this.” Came the voice of the Raven and then the cold somewhat subsided.

Looking around in complete darkness, she found no source of the voice. Only darkness.

“What is this place?”

“We are in a somewhat higher form of existence right now. You’ve done this before, when we talked through your visions. This is similar, but more powerful.”

“Then why don’t I see anything?”

“Your eyes are covered.”

She reached up and touched soft fabric. Layers and layers of it. No matter how hard she tugged, it didn’t give an inch. Once it slipped from between her fingers, it retook the place over her eyes, locking her up in the darkness.

“You cannot remove that. You are not a Raven like me. You must see with the Fire Eye.”

“I don’t want to use magic. Is there no other way?”

“You’ll need to eventually. The one we are about to face is much greater than I am. I cannot fight him alone. I need your help or all hope is lost. You already know your power and have some experience. There is now way I can teach Jon enough before He arrives.”

The words of Lady Mellisandre came to her, when she spoke about the potential in Jon Snow. Was the King in the North like them? No, that was a foolish question. Of course he was. He and his sisters were touched by magic, there was no doubt about it. They were blessed with the knowledge of not knowing about it yet.

“You fear the Fire God’s power and that is a wise thing. But you shouldn’t fear your own. It will cripple you and in the end you’ll lose control. Let it flow. There can be no flood if the dam is properly managed.”

She couldn’t. Images of fire came forward in her mind, screams of the iron born as they were consumed by her flames. Screams of her people as they burned inside the ships she had torched with Drogon. Just screams and ash and she could never let it happen again.

“Daenerys.”

She realized that she was hyperventilating and tried to calm her breath. The Raven remained silent until she was ready to converse further. She already missed her sight dearly.

“Your powers are more than destruction. Fire is both life and death. Fire is what keeps mankind alive during the winter, cooks their food and warms their water. Flames can be all consuming, yes, but only if they aren’t handled properly. If you extinguish your fire, everything would be lost to the ice.”

She felt the presence before her reach out tentatively.

“It’ll become necessary for you to use it. But for now, let me help you.”

Swallowing her nervousness, she thought about his words. Though about the army of the dead they were about to face. Will she allow her own fear to deprive the living from an asset like her magic? But will she be able to control it? It’s been a long time ago since she felt fear like this. A visceral, cutting fear that suffocated her with every though.

“You promise I won’t hurt anyone?” She asked, her voice merely a whisper.

“I can’t promise something like that. You can do it, though, if you do your best.”

Letting out a last calming breath, she nodded. A gentle nudge poked her forehead, as if focusing her attention to the proper point. Closing her eyes despite them being under the bandages, she concentrated. The pain was back and she faltered a little. The noises and the images were assaulting her again, but the Raven’s presence made it bearable for now, so she pushed on, searching for the lock she needed to open.

She didn’t even know what to look for.

She still doesn’t know what she did.

But something clicked.

And then she was seeing again. She saw the godswood around them, more vivid than ever. Colors radiant and sharp, shadows deep and dark. Her first instinct was to look at her newfound guide, but there was no one around beside herself.

“I cannot exist on the same plane you are for now. I need to keep us both here.”

“Here?”

The gentle, cool presence in her head nudged her attention towards the weirwood tree. She found them there. Daenerys’s own body, sitting between the roots, crown upon her head, the ruby blazing, him in the wheelchair, eyes rolled into the back of his head. Two bodies without conscience. Above them, the carved face of the heart tree was more detailed and then…

Then she saw the face blink up at her.

It was actually looking at her.

“It’s alive…”

“It’s the magic that you’re seeing. Come, let us go. Even this close to my power source, we can’t be away for long. You will tire much faster, despite that enormous amount of fire magic you have. In time, you’ll instinctively learn to measure it.”

Daenerys cast one last glance at her body, before nodding softly.

“Alright then. Where are we going?”

“I want to show you the creation of our enemy, but be careful. He can reach us in this realm. Don’t let him touch you and don’t engage. You have no experience to fight him yet.”

She let him lead. The scene contorted around her, revealing a snowy hill. She saw stones, organized into spiraling lines around an ancient weirwood tree. Walking slowly closer, she noticed the figures under the tree. They were small, like children, dressed in rags. Their skins were leaf green.

“Are these the Children of the Forest?”

“They are. A few of the last ones.”

“What are they doing?”

Taking a closer look, she noticed the man tied to the tree. Sensing the worst to come once noticing the dragon glass dagger in one of the Children’s hand, she fastened her steps, strolling over to the vision. Standing to the side of them, only a few feet away, she saw clearly the fear on the man’s face as the weapon began to sink into his chest.

Frowning in sympathy, she made herself watch. That was the only reason why she noticed the carvings in the dark glass.

“Wait, I see something!”

To her utter surprise, the scene froze before her, the blade halfway into the man’s chest. Creeping a little closer, she examined the blade. Carefully leaning closer, she saw carvings. There were only a few symbols, but she felt them being important.

“What are those?”

“Runes, I believe. I’ve yet to decipher their meaning.” The Raven answered.

“Have you seen anything like this before?”

“Not yet.”

Nodding slowly, she tried to memorize the symbols. They weren’t really complex, mostly resembled the drawing of a child. A tree and a triangle close to each other, a star between and above them. No, not a triangle. Upon even closer inspection, it looked more like a crude drawing of a pyramid. She saw them illustrated like this on smaller maps of Meeren.

“Daenerys.”

Another group of three was right under the first one. Two crossed lines that had strange, curvy lines around them. Another was a spiral, resembling the very symbol they were standing on. The third one was a circle that resembled the crude drawing of a ring.

“Daenerys, we need to leave!”

The last one was the spiraling symbol once more, only bigger. As big as the other groups.

“I don’t understand.” She murmured.

“_Daenerys, wake up!”_

The Valyrian phrase startled her and she took a step back from the scene. She was suddenly aware of the roaring in her ears and cringed. A strange instinct began burning her throat and before she knew it, her hand was on the handle of _Remembrance_, drawing the blade and sliding into a parry, while spinning around on her heel.

Eyes as cold as winter itself stared at her, less than ten inches from her face. A mighty sword of ice clashed with her own, pushing her back a little, yet she managed to hold her ground. For a few heavy second, she locked gazes with the creature. Its skin was pale blue, the armor was covered in ice. From his forehead and temple, icy spikes grew towards the sky, like a torturous crown.

Suddenly, she realized who this creature was.

The Night King.

Their swords were still locked together, her hands trembling but holding for now. She couldn’t imagine what gave her the power to hold her ground against a figure bulkier than herself, but wouldn’t possibly complain.

“_Valar morghulis, Day Queen.”_

She flinched at his voice. It was deep and rumbling, sending shivers through her body with every word. Yet at the same time, she felt rage build up inside her chest and for the first time since they crossed blades, she began to push back.

“_Valar dohaeris, Night King.” _

Her hiss was answered with a shriek from her right. Just in time, she jumped back to avoid the dead body that landed on her previous spot. Its rotting face turned towards her and the shriek was followed up by multiple others. Twirling her sword once, she met the next one head on, cutting it in half, then the second, then the third. They were mindless corpses and her training bore fruit as she sliced at least half dozen apart.

“Daenerys, we can’t stay! He is getting a hold of you!”

Before she could answer, that strange instinct kicked in again, urging her to lean to the side. A spear of ice flew over her head from behind. This new opponent was no wight. That one was a White Walker. Gritting her teeth, she turned to the side, not wanting to lose sight of the King or his General.

“Bran!”

Her shout meant so many things.

_Give me a clue!_

_Help me! _

_Pull me out of here!_

The power of the Raven latched onto her shoulders, trying to pull her away, but for some reason, he was unable to. She had to fight more and more wights as they scrambled towards her, crawled out from under the snow and screeched before charging. That strange instinct saved her time and time again, but after a minute or so, the signs came too fast and began to blur together, causing her to feel some attacks succeeding. None of it managed to get through the armor, but she was losing her footing.

She screamed when sharp pain shot through her arm. It was another ice spear, this one managed to break the armor and cut the skin. Her teeth knocked together at the chilling cold that assaulted her body from the wound.

And then there were flames again. They burst out of her body, reducing the wights around her to ash. Her surprise almost cost her another spear, this time it would have impaled her through the chest, but she managed to lean away in the last second.

With a rage filled scream, she lashed out towards the White Walker. A whip of fire cracked in the air, hitting the Dead General straight in the chest. With a blood chilling scream, the thing broke into a thousand shards of ice.

“Bran!”

Then everything turned to black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... we started to do some real magic... tell me what you think >.>


	14. Chapter 14

The first thing she came to was the pain. Frowning, she forced herself to open her eyes. She was still in the godswood with Bran, who was looking at her with the mix of wonder and guilt. Daenerys was feeling awful. Her head was pounding and all of her limbs were trembling like she just trained the whole day without stop.

The sharp pain that woke her came from her arm. Suddenly remembering what caused the wound she hissed and turned to look, only to find the armor intact. Figuring out her thoughts, the young man spoke.

“They can’t damage you from that sphere, unless they kill you.”

“So why the pain?”

“It’s an echo. It’ll pass in a few days.”

Pulling off her crown, she let out a relieved sigh. The constant cacophony in her head did nothing to help her, though the headache was already there. Trying to find footing and collect her strength, she slowly stood up, leaning against the huge weirwood tree.

“What was that?”

“He felt your presence in his past and went to hunt you down.”

“So he can walk in the past like us?”

“No. It’s complicated for him. Full of restrictions. There’s a limited amount of servants he can take with himself and he can only go back on his own timeline. You can travel anywhere you want as long as you wear the Fire Eye.”

“He spoke to me. He called me Day Queen. Why?”

“I don’t know for sure. Maybe your fire got his attention. It’s very powerful.”

“Yes, you’ve told me that before.”

Once she was sure on her feet, she put the crown back to its place before putting the helmet on.

“For how long was I out?”

“Just a couple of minutes. The feast will begin in an hour.”

“I’ll take my leave then. We shall talk about this more once I managed to get my thoughts together.”

“Of course. I’ll see you at the feast.”

***

When Daenerys entered the Great Hall, he felt like he was living a vision. The dress she was wearing was a captivating one, similar to the one she wore on Dragonstone at their first meeting. It was blood red, clinging to her figure until it reached her upper tights and from then on pooling to her feet. It had a strange, masterfully embroidered pattern on the front, hugging her waist like a belt. Her shoulders and arms were covered with a black shawl, though she didn’t really need to keep herself warm. Her Targaryen blood warmed her more than a thousand fireplace in the great hall.

She wasn’t wearing her crown. He noticed that she only had it on when her helmet was there too. There might be some kind of message there. A Conqueror Queen.

On her heels were her advisor, Missandei, who was a very noble and sweet girl and Jon appreciated the huge help she was during the first few days, keeping the Dothraki in line until the Queen arrived. With them came two of her battle Commanders. The knight, Ser Jorah Mormont and the Unsullied Grey Worm.

He stood before the table, greeting her. She nodded with a smile, but he could see her mind was occupied with something else, the formalities coming to her like the lines of a play. Once everyone was seated, he addressed the northern lords and ladies.

It was hard not to let his adoration towards her bleed through his voice. Sansa was already sending knowing looks towards him, but he made himself ignore them. His sister thought he was in love with her and maybe he was. But the emotion wasn’t that simple. He admired her strength, her compassion, her stance, her sharp mind. Some part of him even aspired to be a ruler like her, just, yet kind for those who are remorseful.

This wasn’t as easy as simple love.

“My lords and ladies. We hold this feast to personally thank Her Grace Daenerys Stormborn and her soldiers for the help they offered in this dire time, not only in the Great War, but in the following winter as well. My father always said, the North remembers. Not only the bad, but the good too. Let us say our thanks for their alliance.”

There was an unenthusiastic cheer around the tables. He saw Ser Davos frown and he felt the same. Before he could try to encourage them a little, Daenerys spoke up, her voice clear and steady.

“My lords and ladies.” She stood, her stance straight. He saw Arya blink beside Sansa, clearly surprised. Maybe she knew something. Nevertheless, he let the Queen speak. “As your king said, the North remembers, the goods and the bads. That is why I, Daenerys Stormborn must extend a formal, but sincere apology towards all of you, in the name of house Targaryen.”

He was shocked. Left completely speechless. And it wasn’t just him. If not for the cracking of the fires, one could have heard the pin drop.

“My father was a cruel man. The Mad King. The more I learn about him, the surer I am that he deserved his name and much worse. What he did to Rickard and Brandon Stark was an atrocity, something that no amount of apologies could compensate for. As his daughter, it is my duty and my wish to apologize.”

Shocked murmurs rolled over the Great Hall. No one expected this. To his utter bafflement, she wasn’t done yet.

“But that isn’t the only crime of my family against the North and house Stark. My brother Rhaegar was told to be a good and gentle man, yet he kidnapped and raped Lyanna Stark, a crime unforgivable in my eyes. Once more, I apologize.”

She actually bowed her head a little. Silence reigned in the Hall, until someone spoke. Jon felt like laughing. Of course it would be Lady Lyanna to find her voice first.

“Never before has a southern ruler apologized to us. You have not demanded for us to bend the knee and came here to help us in our time of need. I cannot speak on the behalf of house Stark, and I cannot forgive you in their name. But your actions speak loud, Your Grace. Should His Grace accept your apology, let it be known that House Mormont is ready to look past the crimes of the Mad King.”

Murmurs rose once more and Jon saw agreement on many faces. He took a glance towards his siblings. Bran and Arya offered him small smiles. Sansa was frowning and refused to look at him, so her opinion was clear on the matter. Casting a last glance towards Ser Davos, the man gestured towards the Queen who was still standing with her back straight, though there was a look of gratefulness on her face as she locked gazes with the small lady.

His mind was made up.

“The sins of the family should not burden the shoulder of the guiltless. Your apology is appreciated and accepted Your Grace.”

He rose his cup towards her. She smiled and did the same.

“Thank you Your Grace.”

And both of them drank to it. Once they were seated, the mood in the hall became noticeably better. People were smiling and chatting, sometimes sending glances towards the High Table. Daenerys ate her food in silence, sometimes complimenting the cook and the skills of his sister for organizing a feast in such a short time to such a degree.

Sansa took it all with polite smiles but avoided conversation if possible. Daenerys didn’t seem to mind. Jon saw her rub her arm a few times and wondered if she was injured recently. Missandei spoke to her in valyrian, and Daenerys sometimes replied. Same went for Commander Grey Worm. The Dothraki Commander Qhono seemed to be bored, only finding joy in speaking with his _Khaleesi._

_A Dothraki celebration that has no death is considered boring._ Daenerys once told him.

Jon sent a look towards the table of the Golden Company. Since the Queen humbled them, they mostly kept to themselves. It was a strange sight, considering how much they’ve mocked the northerners before. During those torturous days, Jon couldn’t do anything but grit his teeth. The North barely had five thousand soldiers. Compare that to the Golden Company, they had no bragging rights. Not to mention the Queen’s army.

“I’ve received word from Lord Tyrion.” Said queen suddenly spoke to him, grabbing his attention. “The wildfire and the valyrian steel should be here in a week, along with the next shipment of dragon glass and the weapons.”

He hummed. That was fast.

“It’s good to hear. The sooner we have everything ready, the better.”

“I agree. I was thinking, who is manning the Wall right now? Just the Night’s Watch?”

Looking at her, he tried to figure out what she was getting at.

“I think so.”

“Maybe we should send a few thousand soldiers there. Man the castles. The Wall is a huge advantage for us, yet it’s basically empty.”

He nodded and they talked about it. Daenerys told him a long time ago, that she wasn’t a military expert. All her knowledge and victories came from a sharp, adapting mind and lots of books. On the other hand, she knew her army almost to the last soldiers. When he mentioned a castle and the number and type of soldiers that would be ideal, she almost immediately said the name of an officer and the amount of soldiers entrusted to them.

“Twenty thousand men.” She said, once they had the final number. “It’s a lot and the journey is long and hard. They should depart tomorrow.”

Her gaze flickered towards his side and he resisted the urge to turn and see. Only his sibling were beside him, so she must’ve made eye contact with one of them. Which one? Bran, most likely, since they’ve spent a good half an hour in the godswood together. Jon was itching to know what they spoke about. Bran told him a few times that he possesses some kind of magic now and Daenerys once said that she was “A Dragon Rider from the blood of Valyria and the line of Daenys the Dreamer”. A claim like that must mean that she has some kind of magic too.

He decided that asking about it couldn’t hurt anyone.

“What did you talk about with my brother?”

Daenerys turned to him with an amused curve of her mouth and an eyebrow raised. Fair enough, that was pretty blunt. Based on her amusement, she was already used to it. She never addressed his lack of proper court manners and he was sure that she knew that he was trying to act and speak like her, learning from someone who seemingly had ruling in their blood.

“He showed me something I believe you’ll need to see too, once you are ready.”

It was his turn to arch and eyebrow.

“That is?”

She leaned a little closer, a few of her locks that escaped her tight braid fell before her face. Jon barely caught himself before sweeping one of them back behind her ear and scolded himself. She was an ally. His only ally, to be really honest. He can’t allow himself to get distracted by the marvelous presence of Daenerys Targaryen.

Her voice was low and barely a whisper when she spoke, only for his ears.

“He showed me the creation of the Night King.”

That made him forget everything else. He felt the air get stuck in his chest and terror run over his body. Because despite the brave face he must show to his subjects and followers, the truth was, he is one of the few men alive that saw the might of the Night King. The deadly specter haunted his nightmares since. Only a fool wouldn’t fear the malicious personification of death itself.

A small, but impossibly warm hand was put on his fingers under the table, drawing calming circles with a thumb. It was strange, how quickly it worked. Once he managed to get his breath back under control, he stole a glance towards the hall, hoping that no one noticed his short panic.

“It’s alright. I’ve reacted the same, once the battle rush had worn down.” The words of the Queen were reassuring and he felt a little less bad about himself.

Daenerys was an anchoring presence and he couldn’t help, but admire her strength. There are few rulers who would’ve admitted a moment of weakness to someone that isn’t a close acquaintance. It was the testament of her might that she felt safe confessing something like this. Both of them knew that there are a handful of living souls that would get a chance to use it against her and they aren’t inside the hall with them.

She handed a cup of vine to him and he drank it with one swing, hoping for something stronger.

“What did you see?” Was the first thing he asked.

The Queen pushed her lips together and leaned a little back, reaching out for her own cup.

“I’m not really sure. He was created by the last remnants of the Children of the Forest, though for what reason, I don’t know. He was a human man once. They’ve sunk a blade of dragon glass into his chest and invoked ancient magic with symbols your brother called runes.”

He shuddered at the thought, but pressed on.

“What symbols?”

Humming, the Queen looker around the table, her gaze searching for something. She then took a spoon and beckoned him closer. It took her a few seconds to search her memory for the signs. After that, she drew out the first form.

“This one, I believe, is a pyramid. I saw the maps of Meeren illustrate them with the same drawing. Then there was a tree and a star. This one was the first group. Then two lines… like this… with this… and ring like shape… and this strange swirl.”

Jon immediately recognized the last one.

“They sometimes draw this symbol. They use human body parts to do so.”

It was the Queen’s time to shudder.

“It must have something to do with their creation. The same symbol was made out of rocks where the Night King was created. He was born in the center, tied to an ancient weirwood tree.”

“Maybe. But then why are they drawing it over and over again?”

Queen Daenerys leaned back and took another sip from her cup.

“Magic requires symbols. The faces of your weirwood trees are symbols. My crown is a symbol. I don’t know why it is this way. Maybe they help to focus wild magic. Maybe they act like a gate or like a handle to the sword. I’ve never researched magic myself, and what little experience I have, I’d rather forget most of it.”

This was the moment when Ser Davos walked over to them. He greeted them with a smile and they returned the gesture. Jon could tell that the Queen was fond of the old Hand, though didn’t know why. Maybe she found his bluntness refreshing, just like Jon did. Or maybe, he was reminding her of someone she holds close to her heart.

“Your apology was unexpected, Your Grace, but I believe, this was the best kind of surprise the North received in the past years.” The Hand said and the Queen nodded.

“I believe in apologies, Lord Hand. They are necessary for a peaceful and flourishing society.”

“That they are.” Jon agreed.

“Though one would say, words are easy to be uttered.”

He felt like he was punched in the gut. Behind him Sansa wasn’t even looking at their direction, but it was clear that her words were aimed towards them. He could see the Queen’s face get still for a moment, before Daenerys slowly blinked, too slowly, and then turned towards the princess.

“I have to agree with you, Your Highness.” Daenerys said, her tone unreadable. “That is another reason why I am here and why I’ve agreed to support the North through the following winter, should we live to see it. To show you that I mean what I say. The other is of course, my desire to help. The North might no longer be one of the Seven Kingdoms, therefore I am not obligated to be here, but that doesn’t erase the sense of responsibility I feel towards those, who cannot protect themselves.”

Jon could see that Ser Davos, despite the few cups he drank, looked a few shades paler than usual and he felt like his face might be the same. He couldn’t begin to decipher all the hidden messages in the Queen’s words, but he was sure Sansa got all of them. The women eyed each other for a few tense moments, before Daenerys’s face broke out into a kind smile.

“Your cook must teach Missandei how to make lemon cakes like this. I’ve never tasted better.”

Sansa smiled too and Jon hated, that he couldn’t decide if it was fake or not.

“I’m glad that you like them Your Grace. They are my favorite.”

Daenerys shrugged playfully and took yet another bite from her cake. With that, the two turned away at the same time and never addressed the other for the rest of the evening. Jon felt uncomfortable. There were a few more things he would’ve liked to speak about with the Queen, but the jab Sansa threw towards her made him feel like he was dirty in some way.

He saw Daenerys and Tormund talk with each other and he could hear Tormund boasting about that gods awful tale with the giant, but Daenerys’s bubbling laughter spoke about honest amusement.

He found himself staring. She was like a vision of gentle fire. Her warmth caressed everyone who spoke to her. She drew them out from their shell, kind words and even kinder expressions. She called herself the _Mhysa of the People._ A Mother. He found the title fitting. Daenerys had a power over people. They want to please her, just like a child wants to get the attention of their mother.

When he managed to turn his gaze away, he found that he wasn’t the only one staring. Men and women alike were looking at her with searching expressions, trying to figure out if someone could genuinely be this compassionate.

And then she excused herself for the night and her advisors followed.

Jon felt like the Hall was swept over by a cold wind, stealing the warmth and light.

_Now you’ve done it, Snow._ He thought with a bitter expression. _From all the women in the world, you, stupid idiot, want the goddess._


	15. Chapter 15

By the time the morning came, Daenerys has already broke her fast. The first rays of the morning found her in armor, sword at her side. She had a long list of tasks and wanted to get it done as soon as possible. Missandei, who was an early riser herself, was already dressed by the time Daenerys sent for her.

As they ate, they talked.

“_The King in the North and I came to a conclusion about the Wall. We will man it as soon as possible. Also, I’ll need someone to examine the saddle on Drogon. I’d like to keep its maintenance as frequent as possible.”_

_“I can go to the forge and ask if someone would be willing.”_

_“Thank you. Feel free to offer them money and let them know that I’ll be there and make sure no harm will come to them. Speaking of Drogon, I’ll go out to make a few circles with my children. Before that, I’ll go to the Dothraki tent, to see if everything’s in order. If the King arrives, let him know that I’ll be back soon, or if he wants, he can look for me in the tent.”_

_“Of course, Your Grace.”_

Daenerys smiled and rubbed her thumb over Missandei’s skin in an affectionate way. They both smiled, happy to be in each other’s company. Missandei and Grey Worm were some of her oldest friends and she could never put it into words how much she loves them.

“_What would I do without you?”_

_“Get stressed, I imagine.”_

They laughed and finished their meals. After that, wasting no time, she left her room to Missandei. When she exited the room, besides the two Unsullied was Ser Jorah, already waiting for her. She smiled at the knight.

“Already awake Ser?”

“If the Queen rises early, so will her guards, Khaleesi. Besides. It’s impossible to sleep in here in the North. The days are so short in the winter, you barely notice them.”

Letting out an amused huff, she headed towards the yard and the gates. While the corridors were vacant, the courtyard was buzzing with activity. Since they didn’t stop everything they were doing just to stare at her, she took that as a victory. The faces were more welcoming than yesterday. No doubt the news of her apology spread like wildfire. Some of them even smiled at her, though those were still fragile, insecure curves of their mouths.

The camp was different. Her soldiers made out the majority of the army, so wherever she turned, someone greeted her by some of her titles and bowed their heads. Doing her best to smile and greet them in return, she found her way to her tent in minutes.

The inside was already lively, officers and serving women were chatting left and right eating their fill for the morning. A cheer was let loose once they noticed her and everyone rose in greeting. Daario was waiting for her in a separate part of the tent that was meant to be her resting place with a bed. The three eggs were in a chest, open for now and turned towards the fire to keep them warm.

_“I trust everything went smoothly here?”_

_“Well, as smoothly as bored Dothrakis can pass time, I suppose. They have a few squabbles they wish you’ll settle, once you have time.”_

_“I have time now, about half an hour before I go to my morning flight. Someone alert them to my presence.”_

She went over to the eggs, caressing each of them for a few minutes, taking in their warmth. They were always warm, especially the violet and magenta colored one. Every time she took the egg into her hands, she could feel the life inside pulse, content and eager, as if the new hatchling would burst out from it any minute. While she would’ve loved the egg to hatch, she didn’t want this new baby to be born in a harsh place like this. Dragons don’t like cold and she feared that the cold environment would damage the hatchling’s health.

She was woken from her thoughts by Ser Jorah.

“_Khaleesi. They are here and so is the King in the North.”_

_“The King? Already?”_

_“Yes Khaleesi.”_

***

It was the first time for Jon to see the inside of a Dothraki tent. It was warmer than he expected and more lively. Based on the grumblings of the horse lords, he thought that they despised the winter too much to be lively. Whatever they did to the tent, it kept the warm inside and it seemingly raised their mood.

He felt a little awkward, standing in there with two northern soldiers, waiting for the Queen to emerge from behind the makeshift door. When he went to her room, he felt a little guilty about waking her so early in the morning, only to find out that she was already armored and left to do her work. To be honest, he really didn’t know what else he expected.

No one was paying him attention, which was good. He heard a few murmurs, but of course he didn’t understand any of them, only the word ‘_Khal’,_ which was dropped repeatedly. That might’ve been about him, since they might not have a special word for king or queen. Just _Khal_ and _Khaleesi_. Some part of him was curious about what they were saying about him. They seemed dismissive. Which is better than the disapproval Daenerys received from his own people before her apology. It made his face burn in shame whenever he thought about it.

She emerged from behind the door of the side tent, her helmet under her arm, sword to her side, dressed for battle. She walked up to the makeshift wooden throne on the small podium, dropped her helmet to the low table on the side and sat down heavily. He blinked, surprised. Her aura was vastly different. Her behavior was just like a Khal’s from his imagination. Powerful and a little dismissive.

The exact opposite of the merciful, just queen she usually was.

The Dothraki rolled off from her tongue in harsh syllables. The two warriors before her spoke rapidly, cutting each other off, trying to spoke their truth and get her to believe them. This went on for about a minute before she commanded them in harsh tone, no doubt demanding order. They fell silent for a few seconds. She addressed one of them. He spoke in a little less vehemently, but still passionate.

Then the other warrior spoke his piece. The Queen, or rather, _The Khaleesi_, slowly twirled a dagger on the arm of her throne, her face never giving away anything. Once everything was said, she took a deep breath and let it out slowly, leaning forward like she was one of her dragons, ready to lunge.

Then she spoke a few words and one of the warriors let out a delighted, gleeful cheer. The other wanted to object, but she cut him off without mercy. She must have insulted him some way because some of the riders around them barked out laughs. The warrior puffed out his chest, ready to speak and likely defend himself when _The Khaleesi_ leaned forward and fixed him with a gaze that made Jon sweat too. He would swear any time that he saw her eyes became a little paler and more blazing, like fire.

Silence reigned in the tent and the warrior slowly got on his knee, bowing his head in shame and submission. Daenerys leaned back inside her throne and barked out an order, dismissing the case and calling forward the next one. After that, no one challenged her again.

She was done in about ten minutes. Whatever decisions she came to, it seemed like no one would lose their lives to her wrath. It honestly surprised Jon a little after witnessing her showing such a hard side. Her eyes found his when she descended from the throne, the warriors parting before her, giving way to the exit of the tent.

“Good morning, Your Grace. My apologies for the delay.”

“Good morning to you too, Your Grace. No need. Grievances are best settled quickly.”

“Agreed. Now, I trust you’ve been to my room and already met Missandei, since you came here to find me. Did you make a list about the castles of the Wall?”

“I did. We just have to fill them with men now. Let’s go to the War Tent. We can sit down there and write the list.”

They made their way towards the tent. During the very short trip, Jon was a little disturbed by the fact that Daenerys managed to switch back to her regal self in less than a minute. It made her a little scary, yet Jon admired her even more. Being able to rule over many different types of people and giving them a Queen they wish for must be an incredibly hard job. Jon barely managed to please his own court and it was only composed by northerners.

Once they’ve sat down, he showed a map to her, pointing out the castles and their advantages and disadvantages while trying to find out how many soldiers would be needed to man them. Daenerys barely missed a beat and asked a ton of questions. “Is there other way through the wall at this castle?” “How long ago was this castle used?” “How many men can rest easily inside?” “What if the castle falls, where are the escape routes?” “Is it possible that they’ve been blocked during the years no one was there, by nature or the Free Folk?” “If nature blocked them, what could it be? Snow? Rocks? Trees?” “What kind of blockades do the Free Folk use?” and so on and so forth.

She was incredibly patient and thorough about her questions, seemingly ready to sit there the whole day until she got every information she wanted. Jon never met such a skeptic person before. With some questions, the best thing he could do was make wild guesses, which were always answered with a raised eyebrow.

It was a torture and the first time he began to lose patience, though he knew very well that information like this is invaluable. He was mostly frustrated by the fact that he had no way to know about any of this, he only served in Castle Black and since during his stay no one ever attempted to man the other castles, discussions like this never came up.

After a torturous hour, she sighed.

“This won’t do. I need facts to judge the situation properly. I’ll need to go and examine the wall and the castles myself.”

He was flabbergasted.

“What?”

“You heard me. I’m going to take Drogon and map the wall. It’d be ideal if you could give someone who knows the structure to take him with myself.”

“I could go.”

“We need a ruler here, Your Grace. Our soldiers need someone to lead them, should this trip go the worst way possible and I find my death on the Wall, someone needs to be here. Someone they’d listen to.”

Jon felt cold terror seize him for a few seconds.

“Please don’t say things like that. You’ll come back. You’ll need to be here. I couldn’t command your armies, even if I wanted to. You are the best thing that happened to this wretched continent in the last decade. You need to prioritize your safety.”

She smiled at him. That smile was beautiful. Hinted with grateful curves and happy lines, her face radiated the warmth of the sun. It was hard to imagine that this woman was the same who intimidated a man into silence just an hour ago.

“I’m grateful for your appreciation, Your Grace, but be honest with me. If you’d be in my place, wouldn’t you hop onto your dragon and go to do the scouting yourself? Because I think no one would be able to stop you.”

He bit his lip. She got him there. If he would be the one with dragons, maybe he would already be out there, searching for the Night King to just end it all with a well-placed breath of fire. Something like that must’ve occurred to her at some point, yet she is still here. It was the testament of their knowledge of each other that he immediately knew why Daenerys wasn’t out there, hunting the Night King. She was more responsible than that. A whole continent was depending on her, waiting for her to take the throne, end the wars and make everything good, or at least better.

It was a burden she chose for herself from the moment she began her conquest in Essos. She was the one who decided to take responsibility for others. Unlike Jon, who had the crown thrust upon him. He wasn’t asked beforehand. He had to take the responsibility, because saying no would mean that he’d have to trust said responsibility to his abused sister, who was just beginning to feel safe again inside the halls of Winterfell. He wanted to give her a chance to heal.

Nowadays, he felt like he should’ve let Sansa take the crown. She was a born ruler, a natural in court and she handled diplomatic questions with ease. She would’ve been the perfect ruler for the North. He didn’t like how much her thinking showed the signs of Cersei’s and Little Finger’s influence, though. He never said anything, hoping that in time she would begin to trust again and leave these kind of methods behind.

“I could write to my brothers in the Night’s Watch. Send a raven ahead.” he offered with a defeated sigh.

She laughed.

“I’ve never met a raven that could outfly a dragon before. Be sure to introduce us.”

Despite his sheepishness, he grinned too.

“Alright then. I’ll write the letter and give it to you. Show it to Lord Commander Edd and he’ll know what to do. I’m sure he knows the remaining Night’s Watch better than I do. He’ll find you a trusted man to help.”

“Thank you.”

Just then, an Unsullied came into the tent, speaking to her in Valyrian. He listened, once again frustrated with the fact that he only understood her when she spoke the common tongue. The majority of her army only spoke their mother tongue and it made the communications with them much harder. His only luck was that her officers began to pick up the common and her higher court members spoke at least two languages.

“It seems Missandei found me a blacksmith brave enough to check my saddle. Would you like to accompany me? It’ll probably ease the man a little, knowing that his monarch got his back.”

Getting a chance to see Balerion the Black Dread Reborn up close?

“It’d be my honor to meet your son, Your Grace.”

The walk back was filled with silence. Daenerys kept her eyes on her soldiers, greeting them with smiles. Jon did the same with any northerners that appeared. For some reason, he felt more of a King out here with the army than in the Great Hall. Once he was done here, he’ll need to hold the morning assembly. Just thinking about it made him nervous. Ever since he saw the way Daenerys held court, how her advisors talked and behaved around her, how final her every word sounded, he realized that some part of him wished for that too.

He knew he shouldn’t aspire to be someone else. Daenerys was her own person, just as Jon was his own, and they had their respective ways to make things work. Or so he thought. But thinking about it, really thinking about it, his way wasn’t working. The northerners still did what they wanted, acted as they wanted and openly spoke about their dislike of his rule. He didn’t want to silence the negative voices, far from it. But that should have a certain place and time. Not in front of the whole court.

As bitter pill it was to swallow, it originated from Sansa. He let her speak her way at first because he didn’t want her to feel cornered or silenced ever again. But now everyone thinks they can question his decisions and he can’t rule like that, not in war. He’ll need to speak with his sister as soon as possible.

***

The forge of Winterfell was smaller than the one at Dragonstone, but not less well equipped. When she entered with the king by her side and Ser Jorah behind her, every movement stopped. King Jon cleared his throat to dispel the awkward silence and sent everyone back to work. Missandei emerged from a corner, Grey Worm at her side, followed by the Hand of the King and a young man who looked really nervous. He must be the blacksmith who accepted her request.

“Your Grace. Your Grace” Missandei addressed her first and the bowed her head to the king as well, before turning back to Daenerys. “This young man is called Gendry. He volunteered to check on the saddle, Your Grace.”

Maybe she was imagining things, but both the King and the Hand looked really nervous, though they tried to hide it. Ignoring that reaction for now, she smiled at the man.

“Well met Gendry. Thank you for accepting this task. I’d like to keep a good eye on the saddle’s condition, make sure the new temperature isn’t causing any damage.”

“It’d be an honor Your Grace.” The boy was sweating a little, but that is inevitable if someone works in a forge.

“Good. Let us go then. My sons will become grumpy if we miss the morning flight.”

Once Gendry was properly dressed, they made their way out of the forge and out of the yard once more. She headed for the hill her children chose for themselves yesterday. As always, they burned the ground to a black crisp, making a hasty nest that’d keep hem somewhat warm. Through the bond, she could feel Drogon’s distaste for the icy terrain. Or was that her own? No way of telling. The North was beautiful, but she felt like it was draining her strength. Maybe it’s the effect of the impending war, but she hasn’t slept well at all.

Rhaegal was the first to notice his mother approaching with company. Viserion grumbled and pushed his head further under his own wing, not willing to leave the warmth he made for himself before it became absolutely necessary. Rhaegal on the other hand crawled closer and pushed his snout into her hand, purring at the received scratches and caresses.

“_Good morning my sweet. I know, I know. I feel the same. But you know we have an important fight here. Once it’s done, we’ll go back to Dragonstone. Would you like that? I can’t wait too. Now, where is your big brother?”_

Rhaegal shook his neck and chirped, looking towards the sky above the woods. So Drogon was hunting then. Before she could contemplate on how long it’ll take for his largest son to return, Rhaegal’s attention suddenly twisted to her companions. The dragon cocked his head to the side, a curious gesture and sniffed the air multiple times before he slowly pushed his head towards the King.

“_Don’t scare them, dear. They’ve never seen anyone like you before.”_

His son only let out a huff that sounded amused of all things and continued his advance. King Jon took a quick glance towards her and their eyes met. She smiled at him. Some part of him was very nervous, calming the man was more important. He shouldn’t panic in front of a dragon and Rhaegal seemed more curious than anything.

So the king slowly took off one of his gloves and touched the dragon’s snout. Daenerys held her breath, waiting for a reaction. Rhaegal let out a purr, blinking slowly. Everything was still for a few seconds, nobody really believing what they’re seeing.

Then the moment was over. Her son let out an amused huff and blew some hot breath into the king’s face, messing up his hair more than the cold wind around them ever could and retreated to the nest. The giant dragon laid back like nothing special just happened and even closed his eyes, pretending to fall asleep.

The king was the first to find his voice.

“That was… an experience.”

Daenerys chuckled at his awed expression.

“It certainly must’ve been. I’ve never seen any of them do that with a stranger before. Maybe you have some dragon blood in you after all.”

She laughed when he smiled and rolled his eyes, his whole posture saying ‘Yeah, right’. Just when she wanted to tease him about trying to join her on a ride, they heard the sound of Drogon’s massive wings approaching. Her son was carrying an elk between his claws. Due to his massive size, he reached the nest in the next ten seconds, dropping the food between his two siblings. The two dragons let out annoyed chirps at the disturbance, but stood up all the same, ready to roast their breakfast and eat. Drogon was looking at them smugly, head held high in a smug way.

Letting them enjoy their meal first, she turned back to the king.

“I’m sorry for the elk, Your Grace. We’ve brought livestock for them, but they are picky.”

“No worries, Your Grace. A few wild animals is a small price to pay for the help of dragons in battle.”

They devoured the cooked meat in a few minutes. Their hunger grew with their displeasure at the terrain. Once she was sure her largest son ate his fill, she cleared her throat.

”_Drogon! Come, my sweet. Well, fly out soon.”_

She didn’t know exactly how much they understood from her speech, but she always spoke to them like one would spoke to their own children. The dragons showed a very high intelligence so far and the only times they didn’t heed her request was when they explicitly wanted to ignore them. Tyrion said they understood him when he freed them from their chains, so they likely know some common speech too. Or maybe they understand everything? It’s a shame she has no one who could answer these questions.

The black dragon crawled to her, not even interested in the affectionate touch, just began to nudge her towards the saddle. With a laugh, she began to calm him down.

“_Not yet my sweet. The saddle needs to be examined first. You don’t want Mother to fall, do you?”_

Her son grumbled but stopped pushing and lowered himself even more, laying down like a huge cat. She was sure that if he were a human, he would be pouting right now. Shaking her head with a chuckle, she beckoned the blacksmith closer. At first the young man kept casting nervous glances towards the dragon, but Drogon seemed to ignore him completely.

Only once he was besides Daenerys did he start to loosen up a little. Daenerys had the drawings of the saddle’s various parts with her and showed Gendry every one of them while he was doing the checkup, making sure that everything was in order. It took about ten minutes to finish.

“This is one of the finest work’s I’ve ever seen, Your Grace. It’s in excellent condition still. No need to fix anything.”

“Thank you Gendry. Missandei will give you the reward shortly. Can I count on your help in the future?”

“Naturally, Your Grace. Whenever you need me. I wasn’t even doing it for the reward. I’ve always wanted to see a dragon.”

She laughed as she walked him back to the group.

“Now you saw one up close. Quite a tale to tell.”

He laughed as well.

“I don’t think anyone will ever believe me.”

She was about to respond when Drogon let out an annoyed roar behind her. The northern part of the group jumped a little, but she laughed even more. Nodding to the party one last time, she made her way back to her son.

“_I’m coming grumpy, no need to shout. I’m here. Alright, let’s go. Soves.”_

By the time they were above the clouds, Viserion and Rhaegal came to join them as well. She could feel all of them wishing to exercise a little. Yesterday they were too tired and grumpy and just wanted to rest. Now they wanted to show the northerners what they’ve bargained for. With a smile on her lips, she turned Drogon’s towards land and gave the signal for a spin. Once. Twice. Then for one last time, which he finished just at the end of the dive and opened his wings about two hundred feet from the ground, took a deep loop and began to ascend once more.

Over her head Rhaegal and Viserion were circling each other like two snakes, creating two intertwining lines of fire, though only in the air since they were too high to burn the ground. That wasn’t the goal at all. Drogon flew up between them and they followed his path, making one giant loop above the castle.

“_Alright, enough parading.” _She said, her voice laced with amusement.

She took one slower glide above her Dothraki and Unsullied camp, receiving cheers from her soldiers. She did the same with the Golden Company, though kept Drogon at a higher level, not wanting to take any chance scaring and scattering the elephants. Once she was done with it, she turned Drogon towards the woods and smiled.

“_Come, my son. Show this land to your mother.”_

***

Jon was still a little high on the feeling of touching a dragon. A real dragon. He saw them, multiple times, but never thought he would get into arms reach of them. Sadly, he didn’t know the name of the beast. He knew that the black one was Drogon, and knew that one of them is Rhaegal and the other is Viserion, but didn’t know which is which. He’ll ask Daenerys about the names later.

Just as he stood up to go hold the Morning Assembly someone knocked on his door.

“Come in.”

It was Sansa. She was dressed in her grey furs, so much like the intertwined image of their father and Lady Stark. She was a true Stark despite her Tully colors. Her eyes were almost gleaming like the snow in the morning rays, cold but beautiful.

“Your Grace.”

“Don’t start.” He said with a sigh and sit back into his chair.

A small frown graced her face.

“Start what?”

He looked at her from under his glowed fingers that he used to massage his temples.

“That little jab at the feats? What even was that? I though you was the smart one from us, yet you insult the woman with the giant army and three full grown dragons at the dinner table.”

She rolled her eyes a little and walked over to the fireplace.

“It wasn’t an insult. I wanted to see her reaction. To see how she reacts to someone not blindly falling at her feet after a few words.”

This was shaping to be a headache, he knew already.

“And? Did she pass your little test?”

“She did. I’ve been around horrible rulers all my life. Rulers who couldn’t handle when someone told them no or displeased them with a stupid little phrase. Joffrey, Cersei, even Ramsay. Her expression wasn’t familiar. Or she is quite the actress.”

He sighed and reached for the wine.

“Or she is a mature woman who won’t throw a hissing fit with everyone who says something she doesn’t like. Of course, I could’ve told you that if you’d just asked.”

Sansa shook her head.

“Jon, you are my brother and my king and I love you, but I don’t believe you’ve ever met the kind of person I’ve feared her to be. You wouldn’t have known what to look for. Besides her chest, of course.”

He felt himself go red in the face.

“I’m not in love with her. My judgment is clear.”

“I’ve never said you were. Not yet at least. But she is a powerful, seemingly kind woman who came here to help. You’ll feel something for her, sooner or later.”

He stood up, heading for the door.

“I don’t want to have this conversation with you Sansa. Not now, perhaps not later. We have bigger things to worry about than stupid love stories.”

Just when he was ready to open the door, she spoke again.

“Why is she here Jon? What does she want? Because let’s be honest, the North is in ruins. Our glass gardens torn down, food stock low, barely enough man to gather an army of two thousand. We don’t have resources, we don’t have anything. Why is she here? What does she hope to get?”

He had a feeling he knew where this was going.

“She never asked me to bend the knee.”

Sansa sighed and sat down herself. To his bafflement, she took one of the free cups, poured herself some wine and downed it with a single swallow.

“Jon. That woman is the most powerful person in the whole world. She didn’t reach that position by making bad deals. She gives you so much, we could draw out the list for hours. And yet she asks for nothing? Does that seem right to you?”

Jon bit his lower lip and thought back to his conversations with the queen and her advisors. She really never asked for anything, yet gave them practically everything. Feeling already guilty about it, he felt some of Sansa’s words take root in his heart. What did she want?

“She came to defeat the White Walkers. She said that this is a problem for the whole human race and letting the Army of the Dead consume us wouldn’t benefit her anything.”

Sansa chewed on the inside of her cheek for a second, thinking.

“And why did she believe you? No offense Jon, but even I have a hard time believing it and I’m your sister, I know you and I trust you. She didn’t know you prior. Did she took your word for it?”

Jon recalled the way she suddenly paled and began to tremble in the throne room of Dragonstone. How that welcoming, almost ethereal grace shattered on the altar of sheer terror that spread in her eyes, on her face, as if she was seeing what he was speaking about right in front of her eyes. How her breath caught in her throat as she let out a choked gasp and griped the arms of her stone throne.

It was a vision, she told him. She saw it in her mind, the army of the dead. He knows that she was honest about it, because he’s seen that look on brave men’s face before. That couldn’t be faked. But how could he explain that to Sansa, who doesn’t believe in magic and visions?

She sighed at his continued silence and eyed the cup once more.

“I’m not saying she is a bad person Jon. I just don’t want you to be disappointed or surprised. Trust her if you want but try to see if she want anything besides that deal you’ve struck. Anything else.”

“Why? So you can find a way out of repayment? If we win this war, we’ll owe our lives to her!”

“So will that make us her slaves?”

He felt himself go red in the face once more, this time from anger.

“Don’t ever say something like in front of her. She despises slavers with every fiber of her being. If she hears you compare her to them, she’ll never forgive you.”

She bit her lip and they stood silent for a few moments. Then came an idea.

“Why don’t you invite her for dinner?”

Sansa raised an eyebrow.

“I already held a feast for her.”

“No, I mean, just the two of you. A dinner where you two can get to know each other. Let her defend herself if you have any qualms about her. I didn’t really know her until she invited me and Ser Davos to dine with her and her advisors every evening.”

The redhead thought about it.

“I can do that. It’s not like I want her to be evil Jon. I’m just scared. I’m finally home where I should feel safe and now here’s a woman who could give a single word and Winterfell would be a graveyard and no one would be able to stop her.”

“She wouldn’t do that!”

“I know.” She sighed and he could swear she blinked away a sheen of tears when she turned to look at the fireplace. “But sometimes fears aren’t rational.”

He wanted to console her. No one should’ve gone through the things she did and now she wasn’t feeling safe even in her own home. He couldn’t help but hope that a dinner would ease her fears a little. Daenerys was an honest person, that was easy to see and she was nowhere near malicious. Besides that, nothing he could say would help her. She had to see and experience the warmth of Daenerys Stormborn in order to begin to trust her.

Then she stood up, blinked a few times and took a deep breath.

“Best not hold them up any longer.”

He nodded.

“Aye. Let us go.”

***

Daenerys leaned back to avoid the attack.

Daario’s blunt arakh aimed to take her head and she leaned back in the last second. In her other hand, the practice sword was already swinging towards his leg, yet he noticed and jumped back just in time. She lost her balance a little and compensated with a twirl, abusing the chance of him being a little further from her so he couldn’t attack her back while she did so. Her boot and two capes swept away a good portion of the dirty snow under their feet.

“_Not bad.”_ He said in Dothraki, grinning. “_I’ve never seen you do that before.”_

Her only response was half a smirk and another attack. They danced around each other for a few seconds when she felt the blade at her throat. That damned dagger again. It’s been weeks and she still never notices it time.

Around them some northerners were looking at the match with different expressions. Some were impressed, others were amused and the rest of them were mostly curious or stoic. Pushing him away with an angry grunt, she twirled her sword and began the dance once more, this time focusing on parrying and defense.

“_Shouldn’t you be in the Great Hall now? In court?”_

While he spoke, he never stopped attacking.

“_Not my court. He is dealing with northern issues. Our shared court will be held after lunch.”_

He grinned, twirling his dagger between his fingers.

“_And what about the private court? After dinner? Or couldn’t wait that long?”_

It took her a few second to understand his meaning because she was focusing on deflecting yet another swift blow. Once she was safe distance from his again, she raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging her lips.

“_So eager to pass the torch?”_

_“You want me to be jealous? What a tease, My Queen.”_

_“No. I just never expected you to be so…”_

_“Generous?”_

_“Mature.”_

They laughed and danced around once more. Blades clashed multiple times until he kicked out her feet from underneath her. Some gasps were heard from the onlookers, but Daenerys never paid them attention. She just aimed a kick at his groin and when he jumped back, she pushed herself away from the ground, standing up, bringing her sword into a defense position once more.

_“So, when will you fell him to your charms? Or did I miss it already? He came to your dragon nest, or what’s its name.”_

_“No, we didn’t sleep together.”_

_“Why? I thought you fancy him? He definitely fancies you, don’t even say anything. I’m a thirty man myself, but that guy, he looks at you like you are an oasis in the middle of the Red Waste.”_

Daenerys chuckled and then shook her head.

“_He is a king, Daario. Kings and Queens don’t just go around and fuck each other. Eventually, he and I’ll need to marry, likely not each other. He’ll never sleep with me out of wedlock. His northern honor wouldn’t allow it.”_

_“But you wouldn’t be averse to the idea?”_

_“It doesn’t matter if I’m averse or not. This land isn’t anything like Essos.”_

_“Don’t I know that? It’s just strange. Whose business is what goes down under the sheets between two consenting adults?”_

_“What’s this sudden interest in me and the king having a sexual relationship?”_

He broke forward with five rapid strikes, causing her to retreat too fast, slip on a small puddle of ice and fall back into a pile of snow. She looked at the snow astonished before letting out a free laugh. He grinned down at her.

”_Nothing. I just don’t wish you to become moody because the lack of attention.” _She threw a fistful of snow at him, which he dodged without a problem, stretching his grin even further. ”_In order to avoid such grievance befalling you, I might even volunteer my services._” He took a parade worthy bow, seeming more like a court fool than a commander.

Daenerys almost snorted a second laugh and raised her chin with glee.

“_Daario, you are still dreaming! Who warmed your bed last night to make you sleep in like this?”_

”_No one!” _He wiped away a fake tear from the corner of his eye. “_No one pays attention to poor Daario Naharis anymore! You’ve ruined me, Daenerys Stormborn! Ruined!”_

_“It was a Dothraki girl, wasn’t it?”_

_“It was.”_

Daenerys let her head fall back and let the laughter bubbling in her chest fly free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to those who don't like Daario Naharis. He is kind of a clown in this story, functioning more like a friend for Daenerys than anything else. No, he doesn't want to get in bed with her. She said it's over, so it's over. There's plenty of woman for him to go after and Daenerys doesn't mind. They might even drink and chat about their flings once in a while. 
> 
> This is not a Jonerys story, at least not yet. I'm trying out dynamics with other characters too. Maybe it'll have some Jonerys for a while, but it might not stick. I write it as it comes, no plans for the future. (and I don't care if Daenerys is courted by multiple men and women either. She fucks whoever she wants and anyone who doesn't like that is allowed to scream at me in the comments XD)
> 
> I saw some Sansa hate in the comments. Don't worry, I dislike the show version too, but I like the concept of her character, so I'm going to play with this. After all, I need tension to keep the story dynamic :3 (I more like hated the fact that everyone had to take a stupid pill to make her seem smart. That's just dumb writing. Two intelligent characters can have a conversation without dumbing down one of them for the sake of the other D&D >.>)
> 
> Jon is a little uncertain for now. Him being such a blank slate in the show got to me and I'm trying to find him some characteristics. For now, he is stuck with a court that doesn't respect him and a woman he admires. Count on some dragon blood awakening in the future. I'll put him on the field where he can get back his self-respect and pride.
> 
> Long story short, I'll stop running my mouth now. Thank you for getting this far! Sorry for every mistake, I have no beta. Feels like teen spirit XD


	16. Chapter 16

Daenerys was about to put her training sword away, when Arya Stark approached her. Taking a drink from the flask offered by Missandei and letting the cool water soothe her lighten up insides, she turned towards the girl with a smile.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in your brother’s court?”

The wolf just rolled her eyes.

“That’s for kings, princes and princesses. Assassins prefer to keep out of sight.”

Raising her eyebrows in a questioning way, she waited for the girl to explain. Arya did no such thing however, rather reached for a practice sword and chose the most slender one. Examining the blade for a second she hummed and then looked back at Daenerys.

“You said you wanted some lessons.”

With a knowing smile, Daenerys took back her own practice sword from Ser Jorah.

“I did say that. Alright Arya. Teach me something that a Sand Snake, a knight, a Dothraki and a sell sword wouldn’t know.”

Arya’s face stretched into a grin in response.

“Have you ever fought blind?”

In hindsight, Daenerys should’ve placed this ‘training session’ somewhere out of sight. Turns out, fighting blind wasn’t her forte. At all. At first she tried to take the lesson seriously and became rather frustrated for a while. Arya’s steps were light as air and she never heard her until the last second before the blow. But after a while, when it was her twentieth time laying in the snow, she let out a groan immediately followed by a chuckle and let her head fall back.

“Are you sure this isn’t just an excuse to give me bruises? Because it certainly feels like it.”

Amused laughs were audible around her. She knew that the northerners, some of the Free Folk and her own people were watching. Despite the slight humiliation, she didn’t mind. Based on her experiences so far, the people became more eased around her once she showed them a less rigid, more approachable side. Daenerys was a queen who wasn’t afraid to have some fun now and then, thank you very much.

“I’m sure. When my training started, they beat me to a pulp so many times before I started to hear their movements. The air around them, moving to align with their body.”

Daenerys rolled her eyes under the blindfold, but stood up once more.

“I believe I’ll sooner grow a third eye in secret to peak.”

Another round of laughter and she heard Arya scoff in humor.

“I can’t wait to see that.”

Daenerys waited. She didn’t move, she barely breathed, trying to decipher the sounds around her. In the murmur of the crowd, Arya Stark’s steps were hidden. The girl was smart. She avoided stepping on snow, because that would betray her. Her breathing was drowned out the others in the yard. Despite her earlier joke about queens and bruises, she knew the purpose of this lesson wasn’t to immediately teach her to fight blind. She needed to pay attention to small sounds, to be able to tell them for each other.

After all, what if an assassin got into her room in the dark of the night? What if they already killed her guards? Her shouts would reach Drogon, but she’d have to stay alive until her son arrived.

She tried to drown out the yard and imagine a room instead. She is alone in her room, in the dark of the night, with an assassin. First things first, she needs to protect her back, close off the enemy’s attack range. Maybe if she’d pushed her back against a wall. Taking a few easy steps back, she only stopped when she bumped into an armored chest.

“I’m sorry Ser, but you’re going to be my wall for a few minutes.”

And then pulled the sword into a tight defense position and waited. Seconds passed and she closed her eyes under the blindfold, shutting out the light completely and turned her head towards their makeshift arena, trying to lean more on her hearing. Another few seconds passed. The yard was in tense silence.

Then she felt a small breeze hit her face and raised her swords.

Blade clashed on blade.

Cheers erupted around her. She pulled off her blindfold with a grin, only to find a proud smirk on Arya Starks face. The girl nodded to her, acknowledging her success. Daenerys turned around and apologized to the northern lord she bumped into. He was an older man with white hair and beard, but his face was red and gleaming with a happy smile.

“No offense taken, Your Grace.”

After that, the session was over for the day. People went on their way in a good mood. Daenerys took another sip of water and offered the flask to Arya. The girl drank her fill and they smiled at each other.

“Thank you. I hope this wasn’t our only lesson.”

“I hope so too. You are a fast learner.”

“You gave that last clash for me, though. Don’t deny it.” She teased with a smile.

Arya Stark smirked like a wolf.

“How could I possibly cause a queen to lose face?”

Daenerys was in the middle of her laugh when she realized that if the northern lord was in the yard then the Morning Assembly must’ve been over. As if suddenly feeling the gaze on herself, she turned around a looked up to a terrace. There stood the King in the North with a smile on his face. Next to him was his sister, Princess Sansa, whose face was mostly blank. Daenerys smiled back at them and then turned back to Arya.

“We shall do this again tomorrow, if you have the time.”

Arya nodded.

“Feel free to send for me when you have the time. Have a nice day Daenerys.”

“You too Arya.”

***

Daenerys missed looking into the fire. She used to find it calming, following the dance of the flames with her gaze. Now she had to avoid them. Every time she took a glance, visions appeared. She turned away from them with a scowl, cursing the god under her breath.

“_If you want an obedient dog, find someone else.”_

The Lord of Light didn’t seem to agree with the distance she tried to put between the two of them. The voice in her head was insistent. It was adamant on reminding her of the role she was assigned. She didn’t know why he suddenly took an interest of seagoing her mind, but it made her teeth grind. After minutes of pushing and pulling, he managed to plant some images in her mind. Dead men marching. The Wall, though not her usual vision with the King in the North on the top.

_Valar dohaeris, Daenerys Stormborn._

_“Isn’t that what I do? I came here to this frozen wasteland where my children and I grow weaker by every hour. I’m protecting the land of the living. What more do you need of me?”_

_Don’t protect. Guide._

She was startled, eyes growing wide. Never before did he speak to her. Only that once phrase he was so in favor of, even that more like a feeling than a real sentence. For a few seconds, she thought it was the trick of her imagination. But no. Her chest felt warm and her head became dizzy and tight, as if she was sharing the space with something or someone else.

_“Are you in my head?” _She hissed in her rapidly rising anger. “_Get out at once!”_

_The Shield that Guards the Realm of Men is close. Aid him. He needs a guiding hand and I can’t reach him. He knows nothing of his power and thus is too weak still._

She scoffed and rolled her eyes.

_“The last thing anyone needs is your guidance. We don’t need another Siege of Meeren.” _Then a sneer overtook her face. “_Did you enjoy that? All that souls, burned away by my son’s fire, snuffed out in less than a second.” _A tear of anger and grief rolled down her cheek.

She let it go, not bothering to wipe it away. A sob wrecked her chest and Daenerys struggled to keep her face as composed as she could, while being seconds away from breaking down again. She tried so hard to bury the memory. So many nights spent in agony. She knew, should she let it surface just one more time, it’ll consume her. It’ll cloud her judgment and drown her thoughts like a force of nature.

_Only death can pay for life. A thousand for a dragon not meant to hatch. Two thousand for two._

The remaining air left her lungs. Dragon? Two? What? Lips trembling, she reluctantly took a glance towards the fireplace. What she saw there made her abandon all of her cautions for the moment. She rushed over to get a better view. Two dragons. Two baby dragons. She saw them hatch, saw the moment the eggshells broke apart and the two babies emerged. They were her eggs. A silver and a violet one.

_Rejoice, Mother of Dragons._

_“When?” _That was the only thing she managed to get out, still mesmerized by the sight of her soon to be children. She tried to reach out, but her glove sunk into fire rather than glide over the scales of the newborn.

_Soon. Give me a victory first. I need power._

A victory. Where would she find that?

_“Where? Tell me!”_

But the presence in her head was already gone and so was the vision of the dragons. Instead, she saw the wall of ice. That must be it. The place where she needs to achieve a victory in order for her new children to hatch. She must man the walls properly, go there as soon as possible, prepare the castles and…

As if waking from a dream, she staggered back from the fire. The sudden motion caused her to lose balance and she fell back on the floor. Anger began to flood her veins and the tears in corner of her eyes dissolved into salt and steam. By the time the worried Unsullied opened the door to see what the commotion was about, she picked up her helmet and threw it against the wall with full force, letting out a frustrated scream.

_“My Queen, is everything alright?_” The soldier asked, finding no immediate threat.

_“Leave me!”_

Fuming for a second, she clenched her firsts.

Using her, he was using her again! Dangling the most precious of her wishes in front of her as bait, knowing how desperately she aches for family, how much she would give just to find anyone to call her own. He was abusing her loneliness to reach his goals.

She was _furious_! She was downright _murderous!_ She…

She needed to get out of the castle.

Spinning on her heel, Daenerys stormed out of the room, heading for the yard. Two of the guards followed without missing a beat, almost running to catch up. Every northerner she came across became nervous and fled out of her way, seeing her livid expression. They were all wondering who will get a chance to meet her sons up close after they made her this angry.

But she didn’t go to the dragons.

To be honest, she wanted nothing more than to hop onto the saddle and fly away from here. She ached to feel Drogon inside her head, filling out the sudden empty space she became hyper aware of. Wished for the presence of a kin. But that would lead to nothing but disaster. She had a very explosive temper when she was on her dragon and she already had a hard time keeping the fire in as it was.

Just thinking about what happened made her blood boil.

She stormed into the camp, eyes taking in everything until she found a group of Dothraki riders. Just as she spotted them, they noticed her too. Clenching and unclenching her fists for a few seconds, she took a deep breath.

“_Give me a horse!”_

Two of the closest riders offered theirs immediately. One of the younger riders lead a pale horse to her, already saddled and ready to go. She pulled herself into the saddle, her cape and braid dancing in the powerful wind. When many of her riders reached for their own horses, she snarled over her shoulders.

_“If someone dares to follow, they can find a new Khaleesi for themselves.”_

With that, she rode off towards the woods. Her anger was burning inside her chest and she felt her eyes start to itch from the salt, but she didn’t bother to wipe it away. He was manipulating her again. She was angry for so many things, she didn’t even know where to begin.

First, he dares to claim that the disaster that was the Siege of Meeren was necessary? That he let her burn all those people for a purpose, forcing her to commit the first part of a blood magic ritual once more? Is this how he views humans? Tools? Playthings? Lambs to the slaughter to serve his purpose? He claims it was necessary to hatch two of her eggs, but if her children only get to be born in exchange of thousands, then no matter how it tears her heart into pieces, she rather see them remain in the eggs for another century.

When she reached the woods, she got off the horse and reached for the nearest tree, clutching to it for dear life and let out a roaring scream of agony.

The Mother of Monsters. The one who killed thousands to bring beasts into the world.

The Mother of Flame. The burner of the people. Her legacy will be ashes.

Reaching for the handle of _Remembrance, _she drew the valyrian steel and began to hack the closest free, trying to get rid of her anger. She knew this feeling. She recognized it from before, though the last two times she didn’t know what it heralded. The fire in her blood war ready to burst from her fingertips.

All she saw was red.

That’s why she left the castle and the camp. By some magical luck, she was sane enough to flee every populated area before she loses control. She had to take out her anger on something before the fire burst without consent. And she was very close to consent. To turn in circles and burn everything in reach. The pressure in her chest was agonizing.

She didn’t know how long she was there and how many trees were cut down by the valyrian steel when suddenly her danger senses flared. It was an instinctive move, putting up her arm and drawing out her metal cape. To her utter horror, something collided with so much strength it made her take a step back. She was well practiced in defending herself from arrows to know instantly, what the weapon was. Not ordinary arrow. A crossbow bolt.

Spinning on her heel behind the closest tree, she took a deep breath.

Someone was after her life. This wasn’t the first time she had to deal with an assassin, but it was the first time she was alone. Unfortunately for the poor bastard, this time she was already burning up with fury and was just itching for an excuse to let her flames loose.

She closed her eyes, drowning out every sense except her hearing, just like she did back in the yard. This time everything was silent around her. No murmuring northerners, no practicing soldiers, no one working in the forge. It was just her, the assassin and the silence. And the snow under their feet.

She intentionally let the sword be seen, making her d hand tremble on purpose to create the illusion of a terrified young woman. Her own, purposefully loud breaths were easily ignored in favor of the approaching steps behind her. The idiot seemingly let every caution into the wind after they believed she was terrified and completely missed how her battle reflexes saved her just half a minute ago.

They crept closer and closer to her tree and the moment she knew they were right on the other side of the tree, she silenced her breath and spun on her heel one more time on the opposite side, putting the blade to the man’s throat while she ripped the crossbow from his grip and threw it away. Taking one last step back, she regarded her would be assassin’s ashen face with a cold look.

“Who sent you? Was it Cersei? The slavers?”

“Fuck you, dragon bitch.”

“Wrong answer.”

With a quick handwork, she withdrew her sword and pushed it into the man’s shoulder. He was wearing furs and leathers against the touch of the cold, but no such thing was a match to valyrian steel. He screamed and spat even more insults towards her. Ignoring his words, she suddenly got an idea.

“I have time.” She slowly removed one of her gloves.

The assassin’s eyes became the size of dish plates when he saw her hands. They were the testament of everything she tried to keep inside all this time. Her nails and fingertips were blazing like molten steel, while fiery cracks ran over her fingers. Even in cold like this, the air shimmered around her fingers, indicating the heat they let off.

“So much raw magic and no I have idea how to use it. Such a shame, isn’t it? But I won’t look a gift horse in the mouth. So. I’ll ask one more time.” She gripped his chin, looking straight into his eye.

The skin burned under her touch and the smell of burning flash hit her nose. Nausea hit her at the memory it drew to the surface and felt tears prickles her eyes once more, only to be snuffed out on her skin by the furnace that was her skin.

“Die, whore!”

And he stabbed her with a dagger. Though the armor held out without a scratch, the blade slid in between two plates where she didn’t wear a chainmail, only a hardener leather vest. The strength of the attack was depleted by the armor and the leather. Still it sank into her flesh by an inch on her lower belly.

She hissed and stepped back, putting her hand over the wound. Feeling blood get into the joints of her armored glove and soak the leather, she cursed out loud. Then, despite the sharp pain, she let out a gasp of laughter.

“That was a mistake. A big one.”

When she looked into his eyes, her own were no longer violet. They were blazing like embers and molten steel, fire swirling into them decorated with fury. Her bare hand now looked like it was completely made of hot steel. Despite its look, her fingers were pliant as always, moving without trouble. She took the dagger from his hand and sank it into his other shoulder.

“One last chance. Who. Is. Your. Employer?”

“It’s the queen! Gods, it’s the lion queen! Just stop!”

She slowly began to turn the dagger in his shoulder, the blade rapidly heating up under her touch.

“Are there others coming?”

“I don’t know! I don’t know! Gods, stop!”

She let the blade go and pulled out Remembrance from his shoulder. She wiped the blade on the clean part of her glove until it was as clean as it can get, paying no mind to the screaming and cursing man. Once she was done and the blade was back in its leather scabbard, she turned her attention back to the assassin.

“You were nothing more than a messenger, herald of a war without honor. Despite what people think of me, I am not a merciful queen. I am a just queen. Attempted regicide is punished by only one way. And I was honestly itching to let this out.”

Bare hand towards the man’s face, she made her face blank, eyes, despite their glowing, cold. Impartial.

“For the attempt of regicide I, Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen, sentence you to die.”

From between her fingers, an inferno was unleashed.

***

Jon felt a headache forming already.

An hour ago some servants told him that the queen left in a hurried way and allowed no one to accompany her. Those who saw her swore that her eyes were blazing with white hot fury. A dragon in human form. He was in the middle of giving the order to some soldiers to follow her to offer protection when the forest lit up like someone just lit up the world’s largest pyre.

Minutes later the queen came back with the horse. She didn’t look hurt at first glance. She was on the ground before the horse stopped completely and stormed back into the castle. Jon sent a few men to investigate the fire and followed her to her assigned room. The Unsullied refused to let him in.

“I need to see if she’s alright.”

“No one disturb.” That was their answer to everything he said.

Fuming with worry, he went back to the yard. He saw two soldiers whisper between themselves. When one of them spotted him, he quickly came over and spoke in a low voice.

“I think I saw blood on the queen’s saddle. It must’ve been fresh. It was steel cooling.”

Cursing under his breath, he sunk his gloved fingers into his hair. Pressure was beginning to gather in his chest and he had no idea how to loosen it. Something happened, right under his nose, in his home. Something angered the queen so much she chose to go into the woods alone, likely to cool her head and she came back injured. She wouldn’t let anyone inside, so he can’t even make sure that she is alright enough without a maester.

As he was walking towards the gates, the scouts returned. Some of them, the younger men looked ashen, their eyes wide. The two older men were composed, but Jon could see that whatever they’ve found, it shoot them.

“What did you find?”

“Your Grace… I can’t say… it was like…” The young man couldn’t get out a word without stutter.

“It was like the place was razed by a dragon.” And older soldier said, hair already white from the years. His frown was constant. Jon saw fear in his eyes. “Four thees burned so hard they looked like cinders, still glowing at some places when we arrived. The ground burned to black crisp. A puddle of molten steel and this crossbow.” He produced said weapon from under his cloak.

Jon took it into hand. The first thing he noticed also made his blood run cold. A golden lion on the hilt. The bolt was already missing. Suddenly he had a very bad feeling about the blood on the saddle. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what happened. Something made Daenerys furious and she went to cool her head. That’s when Cersei’s assassin took the chance and attacked her. She was injured by an assassin!

But where did that inferno come from? All three dragons were on the hill. They seemed really pissed at everything and everyone. Rhaegal and Viserion fought between themselves constantly, biting and chirping at each other angrily. Luckily for everyone, the Black Dread roared them into silence and submission. The huge dragon kept looking at the woods, shaking his head and neck in a displeased way.

Jon needed to speak to the mother.

Leaving the scouts with a few words of appreciation, he stormed the hallway once more, this time joined by Ser Davos. When the old Hand asked what happened, sweat already gathering on his forehead, Jon just pushed the crossbow into his hand and let him draw his own conclusions. Based on the way Ser Davos paled while his hands began to tremble, he knew the old man figured out too.

When he reached the queen’s door, the Unsullied stopped them once again.

“The queen might be injured!” He said, almost shouting.

“No one disturb.” That was the only thing they replied.

He wasn’t even sure if they understood him. He was saved by Missandei who came hurriedly, likely hearing about the commotions. She spoke with them in rapid valyrian, replicas flying back and forth before the two soldiers shared a look. Missandei urged them on one more time, so the guards just frowned and stepped aside, opening the door.

Missandei was the first inside, but Jon was right on her heels, his heart pounding.

The queen was sitting on a chair before the fireplace. Her chest armor on the table beside her, in pieces. The leather vest was placed next to the armor. If not for the small white shirt, she would’ve been completely naked from the waist up, and she was in the middle of taking it off. His face immediately became tomato red, but lost some color once more when he saw the blood on the fabric and on her abdomen.

“At least knock.” Came the slightly annoyed response.

Daenerys tore her ruined shirt into three large pieces and dipped the first into the boiling water before her. The water was just beginning to show bubbles. Deeming it good enough, she soaked the fabric and used it to wipe away the blood from her wound. Once she was done, she discarded the cloth and folded the remaining fabric, pushing it against the wound to stop the bleeding.

“Your Grace, what happened?” Missandei’s voice was nothing but panic and worry.

“Cersei happened.” She answered with a frown.

Finding his voice, he turned to Ser Davos

“Go, get the maester.” The old Hand was out the door the next second.

Daenerys let out a sigh and leaned back in her seat, free hand already clutched by her closest friend.

“Don’t be so panicked. It’s a shallow wound, stopped by the armor and the vest. He surprised me, that’s all. I’ll explain what happened once everyone-“

“Your Grace!”

“Khaleesi!”

“… is here.” She let out an amused and fond huff, waving away their panic. “It’s but a scratch. You should see the other guy.”

Right. The fire. He still didn’t know how that happened. Jon did his best keeping his eyes away from her exposed breasts, resting his gaze on her face. She seemed so calm. There was a wound on her abdomen and she was behaving like it was but a scratch.

“Close the door. I don’t feel like showing my bare chest to everyone who passes by.” Grey Worm closed the door. Ser Jorah and Daario were all kneeling by her feet, pale as snow. “Missandei, find me a shirt, please. I’ve been indecent long enough.” While the naathi girl searched the room for something she could wear, the queen let them in on what happened. “Cersei sent an assassin after me. The idiot thought he was to kill a scared girl. He got two blades into his shoulders for that. Sadly, I was an idiot too and missed the second weapon. I executed him for that.”

“Why did you leave alone?”

“What were you thinking?”

“Please never do that again!”

The two commanders just came down from the panic rush it seems, because their fear was slowly mixed with frustration. Daenerys’s face became dark at the mention of her reasons to leave and whatever the two saw in her eyes made them shut up.

“They said there was a fire. Where did it come from?”

Missandei asked that, holding out a black shirt towards her. She thanked her friend and put the shirt on while Missandei kept the hastily made bandage stay in place. Everyone was looking at the queen expectantly. Except Captain Daario. The man didn’t look confused at all. Realization spread on his face, immediately followed by pity and sorrow.

“Is that why you left?”

Daenerys pushed her lips into a thin line. The man signed, sank his fingers into his hair and let his head fall back, muttering something in a language Jon didn’t understand, but he could hear the exasperation in the tone. Then the soldier turned back to the queen.

“Why didn’t you come to me?”

“I didn’t trust myself. Didn’t want you there if it exploded again.”

“What exploded?” This time Jon asked the question, finally finding his voice.

The queen sighed.

“I told you, I’m a Dragon Rider from Valyria. I have magic. Very much, very dangerous fire magic. I can’t command it and it escapes when I lose grip on my emotions. I didn’t want to torch your castle. Or anyone, for that matter. Sorry for not talking about this earlier. I just didn’t know how to address it.”

“So the fire was…”

“Me. He was ashes before he knew what hit him. Sadly, I cannot reconstruct the flames to prove it. It’s not a conscious thing on my part. It just breaks to the surface whenever I feel an emotion too intensely.”

Jon felt a tingle of disappointment.

For a second, thousands of ideas flooded his mind. What a might it would’ve been if Daenerys was able to command her power. Four dragons instead of three. If she used that kind of power, the fire that was visible from a mile away on the White Walkers, they’d have been cooked in their armor. He even saw it before himself. Daenerys, her cape billowing, giving the Night King a fistful of inferno directly into the face.

Then the silent moment was broken by the maester and Ser Davos. Maester Wolkan apologized and went over to the queen, who removed the cloth from the wound. The old man let out a sigh of relief.

“It doesn’t seem to be deep. I’d stich it close, it Your Grace allows it.”

“Go on ahead. And check for poison, while you’re there. I already missed a hidden weapon. Don’t plan on missing a second one.”

The occupants of the room felt a shiver go down their spine. That would be a disaster. Luckily, the maester found no sign of poison. He offered her some milk of the poppy for the stitches, but she waved it away, wanting to keep her head clean. Jon realized that she managed to impress him once more. Fighting off an assassin alone, riding back with a wound and doing all that without a word of complaint. The maester made a quick work with the stitching, his hands sure and fast. Daenerys frowned a few times, but never so much as hissed in pain.

“I’ll check the bandages every day Your Grace. Please refrain from hard physical activity for a while.”

She didn’t seem too happy about that, but didn’t argue. Just thanked the maester and asked everyone to leave her alone to rest. They expressed their complaints about her being alone, but she didn’t listen. Rather she asked Ser Davos if he could send for Bran. The old Hand looked at Jon, who couldn’t do anything but nod.

Once everyone began to leave the room, she spoke once more.

“Your Grace. A moment of your time?”

“Of course.” He then closed the door.

When he turned back, she was already standing. Her face was contorted with a flinch but she pushed through and walked over to one of the chests and took out a hard leather vest. It was a finely made thing, aligning to her chest perfectly. She put it on with sure and graceful movements.

“I apologize for giving you and your people a scare.”

“As long as you are alright, it’s all forgiven.”

She smiled at him and began to put on her chest armor. He offered her a piece, silently marveling at the armor, now that he was up close and had a chance to really look at it. He never saw anything like this. Wondering what kind of metal the armor was made of, he watched her put the two capes back into place, attaching the metal one to the gloves.

They sat down before the fireplace. She was looking at a point on the ground, sometimes stealing glances towards the fire, only to avert her eyes just as quickly.

“What will we say to your people?”

He blinked, not really understanding what she meant.

“About the origin of the fire. My people don’t ask questions like this. They knew me for miracles. The Golden Company can be told that it’s none of their concern. But your people never saw magic before. They will talk. They’ll get scared. We can tell them it was a flask of wildfire, or we can tell them the truth. It’s your choice.”

She glanced up at him, meeting his gaze. She was so small. How can someone this small be this powerful? So composed. There was an attempt on her life only an hour ago. She was stabbed. She killed the assassin with her own magic induced inferno. Yet she is as calm and collected as ever.

“I don’t know. I want to tell them the truth, but…”

“You are worried they’ll call you mad. That they won’t believe you without proof. Proof that I can’t provide since I can’t control it. I am sorry. I put you into this position.”

He sighed. He thought about what his father would’ve done. Ned Stark likely never had to deal with a pyromancer dragon queen in his time. But one thing was for sure. He would’ve been honest with his people. Jon would do that too. He only needed some semblance of proof. Proof that Daenerys had magic.

There came an idea.

“Maybe if we show them you can’t be burned? As far as I know, not being burned by fire was something akin of a miracle even on the Targaryen line. I mean, they were burned by dragons and killed by wildfire. That could show them your magic.”

She seemed to think about it.

“You think it’ll convince them?”

“It must. I won’t lie to my people. I can’t.”

Nodding, the queen turned towards the fire. Her face seemed a little pained, but she kept her gaze on the flames. Then, without turning back, she said.

“Ask them to make a pyre then. A big one. Tell them it’ll be for a feast, a gift from me.” She was still looking into the flames, but he had a feeling she was seeing something else. “Make it outside the camps and the castle. You can leave the rest to me.”

Having an inkling about what she was planning, he swallowed and nodded. Just then, a knock was audible. It was Bran, pushed inside by Sam, who was looking nervous. That was strange. Last afternoon his friend came to him ecstatic, almost jumping out his skin with a big grin on his face. Apparently, Daenerys was planning on rewarding him handsomely, maybe even giving him Hornhill or a keep on his own.

Now Sam seemed afraid. Luckily for them, Daenerys was still looking into the flames and didn’t see the way his eyes kept flickering to her, as if expecting her to address something. Jon took Sam by the arm and both of them were out the door, leaving the two magic users to themselves. Once the door was closed, he whispered.

“What’s gotten into you?”

Sam looked at him with huge eyes and opened his mouth a few times, but closed it right after.

“Not here.” Was all he said in the end. “Let’s go somewhere safe. This information must not be heard by anyone else. Bran said the crypts should be safe.”

Feeling anxiety tie a knot into his stomach, he nodded. They headed for the crypts.

***

“The one who warned me. Was it you?”

“I sensed his presence here. I kept my eyes on you, just to make sure. I’m glad I was able to warn you in time.”

“Thank you.”

They sat in their respective seats, not turning towards each other. Daenerys turned away from the fire that showed her the image of a pillar of fire with her inside and massager her head, closing her eyes. From magic or blood loss, her head was pounding and she felt like tower bells were ringing inside her skull.

She might just owe her life to the Raven. Who knows where that bolt would’ve landed without his warning? With a sigh, she cast a glance towards the helmet, still in the corner. The Fire Eye was gleaming inside the crown, almost whispering to her.

Would she be able to avoid injuries like that with that thing? Would she see them without gazing into the fire? And would it open a gateway to the Red God into her head? He already managed to speak to her despite this place being so far from his domain in Volantis.

“Would the Fire Eye make it easier for him to enter my head?”

“The Fire Eye is its own magic. If anything, it would help you keep out anyone like us. I don’t know about a god though.”

Daenerys stood up and walked over to the helmet, picking it up. She took the crown and put the helmet on the table. Possible protection had to be good enough for now. She looked at him.

“You think I can learn to wear it?”

He blinked slowly and a small smile graced his lips.

“I think that you can do anything, if you believe in yourself, Daughter of Valyria. Don’t _try_ to control it. Just do it. If you can get the mightiest of dragons to work with you, a magic rock should be easy.”

“But it fights me. It hurts me.”

“Then make it see that you are its only option.”

Contemplating those words, she put the crown on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fire magic, assassins, possible OOCness...  
I'm digging myself a hole here, I just know it.  
Tell me what you think.


	17. Chapter 17

She forcibly made her muscles relax. The voices and images were too much to concentrate on. Like an enormous beehive with countless inhabitants. It was almost impossible to single out a picture or voice and if she managed to do so, it only lasted a few seconds before the others pushed forwards and she lost the focus of her attention. The experience was always accompanied and followed up by a massive headache.

Until now, she let the images and voices fly past her, only using them to cause herself pain for the lives she took. To remind herself that magic was untrustworthy and painful for everyone involved. To make sure she would never forget how much sacrifice was demanded in order for her to use this power. Even then, she knew the pain she was experiencing was nowhere near the agony and grief of parents, siblings, lovers and children that survived the Siege of Meeren.

Now, however, she tried to close the metaphorical floodgates, fighting the influence of the stone for the first time. She did her best to tune everything out. To just close her eyes and let everything go around her instead of through her. Her efforts were blown to bits in seconds and the pain returned with vengeance.

_“I need a grip.” _Daenerys thought desperately. _“An anchor in this tempestuous sea. Else I’ll just sink to the bottom and never come up again.”_

She took a deep breath. It burned her lungs and put an uncomfortable pressure into her chest, but Daenerys pushed through. She kept it in and concentrated. What could be her anchor? A memory? A feeling? A gesture?

A memory was the safest. That could be summoned in any situation. Even if her emotions are overflowing, even if her body is unable to move, a memory shall come if she wishes. So she began to rummage through her life, trying to find a certain point she’ll never forget.

The first that came to mind was when she had to eat that horse heart in Vaes Dothrak. She could still taste the phantom aroma of the blood and the texture of the raw meat. That was something she never wanted to do ever again and burned into her mind with crystal clarity. She grimaced, but decided to try.

The voices around her.

The taste in her mouth.

The pain in her knees and teeth.

The blood sticking onto her skin.

The pride in her husband’s eyes.

For a few seconds, the sea around her calmed. She felt something gather around her and glide over her skin. The hair on her neck stood up from the experience. Daenerys was sure that someone was looking over her shoulder. Or something was doing the magical equivalent of that. All this lasted but three seconds. Then the storm receded and her small memory shield was blown away like leaves.

After an involuntary grunt of pain, Daenerys cursed.

She’ll need another memory. Something stronger. The birth of her children would’ve been perfect, but truth to be told, everything about that night was hazy at best. She felt like everything was just a dream or nightmare from which she woke up with three baby dragons. So that memory won’t do.

She considered many others.

The death of her brother.

Her first love making with Drogo.

Ser Barristan speaking about her brother.

She didn’t even try these. All of them felt like the remnant of a past life by now. Like the girl who experienced all this has shriveled up in her chest already. All those things she had to do and bear through first with the Sons of the Harpy then on her trip to Vaes Dothrak broke something in her. The naive, idealistic girl thought all her problems could be solved by killing the bad guys and freeing those in chains.

By now, she knew better. It’s not enough to win a war. If you want your victory to hold up, then you have to sweat blood for it. Find your enemy and destroy it at the roots. If that means you’ll have to kill some of them, you have to do that carefully less they’ll make you look a tyrant. If that means you’ll have to hand out food and build shelters, you have to make sure they know it’s from you, else someone will lay claim on your deeds. If that means you’ll have to integrate yourself into their lives through religion, you’ll have to stay within boundaries, else they’ll make you look like a fanatic.

Everything you do is viewed through different standards, put under magnifying glass, your ideas torn apart… your friends killed.

Daenerys Targaryen, the small, idealistic girl conquered three cities, having no idea of the consequences or the ways of ruling.

Daenerys Stormborn, the warrior in armor and crown will have to learn how to rule. And that she will do. She will rule and she will use her power to bring the closest thing to heavens on earth. She will rule and she will show people that a just ruler is possible.

She won’t be the next Aegon or Visenya.

She will be The Daenerys.

Sharp pain flooded her mind, but for the first time, it felt different. This wasn’t the result of the cacophony of noises and the mosaic of a thousand pictures. No. This pain was stinging, as if needles were prodding her brain. With a muffled yelp, she grabbed her head, feeling the metal of the crown heat up. Suddenly, she knew what this pain was.

The stone is fighting her.

Not just torturing, but releasing an active assault with its magic.

The stone is afraid.

“Got you.” She hissed under her breath.

Her resolution was not enough to bring her a victory, but it was enough for a stalemate. This was the time to strike. The power that could help her achieve victory.

If she could just find a memory…

Suddenly and idea… and impossible and reckless idea…

Her feet moved before she realized what she was doing. Only her queenly resolution kept her from outright running from the room. Forgetting about the Raven all together, she made her way through the hallways, still battling the stone with her magic. It was vicious in its ways. Sometimes it made her go blind or dizzy and she staggered towards the nearest steady thing in her environment. Her two Unsullied guards were always there, keeping her on her feet if she faltered. She never answered their questions, just kept going.

It was a tediously long time till she reached the chosen hill of her dragons. Leaving the two soldiers behind them to stay, she began to ascend the hill. On her way up, she tried many memories. Many victories.

In Astapor.

In Yunkai.

In Meeren.

In Highgarden.

But nothing worked. The stone wasn’t willing to play with her anymore. Even the burning of the Khals, her largest victory so far brought no fruit.

Climbing on Drogon’s saddle, she whispered to her son.

Drogon roared in anger. Uncertain. Not willing to risk it.

She closed her eyes and caressed his neck one last time, feeling the air above the clouds do the same with her cheeks. They flew, far away and higher than even, until Winterfell’s dark dot disappeared into the horizon. She placed a kiss on her son’s scales.

“_Mother trusts you.”_

And she stood up and jumped.

The free fall wasn’t anything she ever experienced before.

She was looking at the endless sky above her, marveling at the stars that came out in the cold afternoon, felt them reflect and make home for themselves in her eyes. Her lungs were filled with freezing air and expanding further than ever before. She kept her eyes on the skies, not minding how fast she neared the ground.

Blood thundered in her ears.

Her heart was pounding fast and she felt faint.

The sky above never let go of her gaze and with every hundred feet she sunk into the debt, more starts rushed into her field of view, expanding her vision. Her breath was stolen away, her lungs still filled with the air she brought from high above.

Her fingers twitched.

Drogon roared somewhere, descending along with her fall, keeping close but never intervening. He knew he needed to wait for something.

Something special.

Daenerys felt tears of wonder prickle her eyes and her lips trembled. The stars were like a thousand silvery jewels in the deep sea of the already darkening sky.

As her back sank into the first cloud, she heard a voice whisper in her ear.

_You are fire, Daenerys Stormborn. Fire does not distinguish between monster or innocent. _

She kept falling and for the first time since the jump, she let out a stuttering breath.

_It just burns._

The magic purred inside her chest, eager for a chance to be released.

_Let the fire breathe. _

Daenerys took one last glance at the stars and then closed her eyes. The manifestation of their reflection left her eyes in the liquid form of her tears. Yet another deep breath, kept in once more.

_Burn, Daenerys Stormborn. Burn, or you will be extinguished._

The fall made her dizzy.

It made her feel weightless.

Free.

For a moment, she imagined what it would be like. Letting the fire inside burst out and consume whatever is in its path, just like she did in the woods. Just like she did in her shared vision with the Raven. Just like in Meeren. This feeling of freedom, never leaving her, not even when she steps foot on the ground. Being the dragon, so much more so than anyone from her family before.

She released the air back into the sky, as if exhaling her own soul.

_“You are wrong.”_

She shut her eyes tight.

_“I am Daenerys Stormborn.” _

Knees drawn up to her chest.

_“I am human.”_

She opened her eyes once more, tear stained face to the moon, its ethereal rays of light caressing rolling down from her armor like water drops. Something in that light called to her. Something from the stars made nest in her chest.

Daenerys heard the roar of her son and felt reality escape her.

_Open your eyes, Daenerys Stormborn._

She was standing in pure darkness. Movements were slow in this place. Breaths were nonexistent. She was at the bottom of an ocean that has no surface, breathing in water that was no substance. Turning her head, darkness greeted her all around. There was no up and no down. Only warmth.

_Jumping off the back of a dragon. And you though me the mad one?_

Viserys… No. Viserys died without a drop of magic in him. The more he clung to the strength in their blood, the more power he lost to delusions.

Something is using his voice, but it’s not him.

_You are not ready for a power like this._

_“There’s no time to get ready.”_

_There’s darkness in you, dear sister. Just like there was darkness in me. You saw what it does to the mind, how it consumes. Do you want the same fate?_

She saw her own body in the darkness, laying on the ground with blood trailing from her nose and mouth and a dagger sticking out of her chest.

_Abandoned someone you thought loved you._

Yet another body, this one had three arrows sticking out of the chest.

_Do you wish for a golden crown?_

A third one, laying on the ground, cup in hand, leaking dark, steaming substance, blood pouring around her.

_You cannot command the fire while there is darkness in you. Darkness is not just anger. It’s guilt. Fear. Shame. Regret. A ruler who fears herself is bound to thirst for control in the future. _

People standing on podiums, blown to ashes.

An entire city screaming inside a ring of dragon fire.

A cup of her choosing…

_Darkness wants only one thing. To hide your true self. Contorts personality. Clouds judgment._

_“Every darkness that’s in my head...Illumine it.”_

_Once the darkness has been blown away, there’s no way to bring it back. The person under might not be to your liking. _

_“I don’t have another choice.”_

What would have happened during the Siege if Meeren if she had this power?

Would she have seen the prisoners before it was too late?

Would she have been able to save them?

And, deep inside her, some part wanted this. Wanted to get rid of the darkness. To finally look into the mirror and make sure she’s seeing her true self. She hasn’t been her true self since the day Viserys sold their mother’s crown. From that day on, there was only a mask. And with time, came more masks. Something else to show to everyone around her, because she was born a girl inside a world where only that strips her of basic rights.

Now that she was powerful enough to be herself, Daenerys forgot what that meant. Who was she really? Deep inside her core, what is the base that never changes? When the darkness is gone and her true form will be illuminated, who will stand in her place? A Mad Tyrant, who was only held back by the chains of society’s expectations? Or will she be the innocent girl who wanted nothing more for herself, but the house with the red door and the lemon tree?

How could she face the enemy of humanity, if she wouldn’t dare to face her real self? How could denial and holding back stand up to cold resolution? How can they win without all of their might?

Despite the selfish reasons she was trying to grasp after, this wasn’t really her decision.

_“Illumine it.”_

From one second to the other, her chest exploded with pressure. It was a terrible pain, like something wanted to burst out from her. Groaning, she lost her balance and fell onto the invisible ground. Fumbling hands discarded the gloves and trembling fingers tried to get off the chest armor, desperate for air.

With each passing second, she felt like something sharp was pushed into her heart, over and over again, slowly cutting something out. By the time she managed to get out of the armor, black, inky substance covered her hands and she felt it run down on her chest, abdomen and thighs.

Heaving with pain, she struggled to take a look at her chest that felt like something was mutilating it right in that moment. Her eyes widened painfully, seeing the fountain of black substance that was bubbling to the surface from between her breasts.

Panic seizing her, she desperately tried to wipe it away, but it was to no avail. Her fear growing each second, she pushed on with her nails, clawing away the liquid darkness that was still coming from her chest, and gods, it was _so much_.

Sobbing from pain and fear, her tears blurred her vision, making everything around her darker by minute. She cried and screamed, clawed at her chest and furiously wiped away her tears over and over, covering her face with the black substance too.

Maybe the fall killed her and she sank into the Seventh Hell.

Just the moment she was ready to give up, something twinkled in the darkness.

It was small, at first. It came from her chest.

Continuing her work with renewed strength, she wiped the black substance away until she could see what gave off the only sparkle of light in this wretched existence.

Stars. There were stars. Under a small, almost palm sized glass dome, hundreds of thousand stars spun to life and gained light with every passing second. Mesmerized by the sight, she completely disregarded the fact that said dome was etched inside her chest. The only thing that mattered was the light.

_Good morning, Lightbringer. You’ve been sleeping for a while._

The pain came from her back this time. Just like her chest, it was bursting with pressure. She screamed, thinking that now the black thing would erupt from her back, from two places this time, but now she could do nothing against it. No matter how she stretched her arms, she could reach either spots.

Her right arm was pulled to the side by something.

It was a chain. A thick, black chain.

Then so was the left one, in another direction.

The suffocating feeling that lingered in her chest was now coupled with pain from various points of her body. There were chains everywhere. Around her arms and legs, around her torso, even around her neck. The sharp pain spread from her back over and over, and she felt like breaking in two. She pulled on the chains and screamed.

Screamed until her throat was hoarse.

Until it was burning.

She screamed and with her scream, fire was released into the darkness around her.

It lasted for what felt like hours.

Like the labor of brining something truly terrifying into the world.

Her screams echoed in the darkness and bounced off her flames.

After a while, when her screams began to die down from the lack of energy and the pain kept worsening, she almost gave up. Almost let herself be consumed by pain, fire and darkness. Something told her that the pain cannot multiply until eternity. She should just give in and it’ll be over. She almost did.

The roar of a dragon shook her up.

Drogon.

Her biggest, bravest son. The other part of her soul. Will he die with her if she gives up now?

It certainly felt like he will.

And that was unacceptable.

So she pulled herself together for one last try, flexed all her muscles and pulled on the chains. Pulled and pulled and when she felt the chains slip from her bloody hands, she hooked her fingers inside the links and pulled again. She heard the breaking of bones in her back, but pulled all the same. More and more, until she felt like her very essence was torn apart.

And with one last scream, the chains broke and the darkness was blown away.

The light feeling of air pushing against her back.

The rush of wind in her ears.

The pull of her hair, blowing towards the sky.

Daenerys came into the world a second time while she was falling from the stars.

Taking her first breath was painful.

Agonizing.

Suffocating.

And yet impossibly ecstatic.

_Welcome to the world, Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen,_ _Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Protector of the Realm, Queen of Dragonstone, Queen of Meereen, Queen of the Day, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Conqueror of the Clean Northern Sky, the Unburnt, Breaker of Chains, Lightbringer, Daughter of Dawn, Mhysa of People and Mother of Dragons._

For the first time since the fall, she turned around towards he ground and saw it rapidly closing on. Drogon, who was descending right next to her, not minding the speed they were going towards their certain doom, never slowed down. He son, her other part, so full of love and trust. She was sure he could collide with the earth alongside her if she choose not to save them.

But she had every intention to do so.

She grabbed one handle of the saddle and pulled herself into position, making a quick work with the clasps. The second she was secure, Drogon changed trajectory and turned the nosed dive around, coming so close to the trees his tail torn out a great bunch of them with the impact.

They were soaring towards the sky once more and Daenerys felt like a veil was lifted from before her eyes. Reaching up to the crown, she pulled it down, examining it. The Fire Eye was still glimmering with a mysterious light source from the inside, but now the gem seemed so much clearer. As if a previously unnoticed fog has been cleared.

She ran a finger over the surface of the crystal.

Then put the crown back on her head and…

Nothing. Just a faint hum, like a distant beehive or rivulet. It was a constant buzz and made the hair on the back of her neck stand up, but nothing else. No assaulting pictures or voices.

Satisfied, she caressed her son’s scales.

_“Take mother back to the castle, sweetling. It’s about time for us to hold the Shared Council.”_

Drogon let out an annoyed roar. Daenerys chuckled.

_“Alright, alright. A few circles, but nothing more.” _Though she said that, while she put the crown into a saddle bag, after the first deep dive, she grinned. “_Make that a dozen circles.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... that just happened. This was a challenging chapter to write.   
I really hope it was worth it.


	18. Chapter 18

Jon had no idea why they were here. His mind was running circles in worry. What could’ve made Sam so nervous? Did anything happen to Gilly? Or Little Sam? Or both? But why would he want to discuss that in such secrecy? Maybe it was something about Daenerys. But that doesn’t make any sense. The queen was nothing but civil and welcoming to them and the lords slowly started to…, well not yet warming up to her, but they finally became civil with her in return.

So what could possibly be so dangerous and important that they had to come to the crypts of all places. Now that the queen pointed out the possible danger of this place, the hair stood up on his back as he stepped down here, just like when he was young and felt the old Stark kings judge him for being a bastard.

“We are here. Now tell me. What happened?”

Sam took a deep, trembling breath. Jon felt sweat break out in his neck. Maybe they got a message from the Wall. Maybe the Night King was closer than they’ve anticipated. Maybe the Wall had already fallen! Could that be the reason why Daenerys was no angry? No, he was jumping into conclusions. She would’ve told him if something like that happened.

“Jon… I thin- I know that… me and Bran… that we, um…”

“Sam just spit it out already, I’m dying here with worry. Did anyone die?”

“What? No! Well, yes. But no!”

“You are making no sense!”

“I know! Sorry, um…” He took a deep breath again. “Jon. How much do you know about your mother?”

The question came out of nowhere, so much so that it took a few seconds to properly sink in. How did his mother come into the picture? And why can’t that be discussed before Daenerys? Wait, Sam said, someone died. Well, died but not. Maybe his mother is dead? Or have been dead for a while?

The thought came like a punch in the gut, yet some part of him anticipated this much. After all, his father always refused to speak about her. Maybe she was dead since his childhood. Or died in childbirth. Maybe his father never spoke about her, because some part of him loved her and the loss made talking about her hurt.

Suddenly he had a terrible feeling. What if Theon was always right? What if his mother was a whore? That may be the reason why Sam would want to discuss this as privately as possible. What if the North learns that he is no more than a son of a whore? Gods, what if the queen finds out?

He almost shook his head. No. Daenerys always showed kindness and compassion, regardless of people’s origin. Maybe she would be one of the few people who wouldn’t look at him different. And Arya. And Ser Davos.

“Nothing.” He rasped. “You know well, I know nothing.”

Sam gave him a pitying look.

“Bran found out. He, um… saw… in one his visions… She was…” Another, even deeper breath. “Her name was Lyanna Stark of Winterfell.”

And to think that he believed his shock couldn’t be bigger!

But that was impossible! Lyanna Stark was…

“She was my father’s sister! He would never do anything like that!”

“She was Ned Stark’s sister, but not your father’s!”

“Now you are making no bloody sense Sam, just spit it out at once!”

His voice thundered in the ancient crypts and some part of him thought that the old stone faces were looking at him with frowns for daring to disturb their peace with his shouting. He didn’t give two shits about them in that moment. What was Sam stuttering about?

“Your mother was Lyanna Stark. And your father… he was Rhaegar Targaryen.”

It took yet another few seconds to react, to comprehend and then…

“That rapist son of a bitch!”

He looked around, subconsciously looking for something to punch without breaking his fingers. Or maybe he’d just break all of his fingers on the stone wall, who cares? He certainly didn’t at that moment. He felt like if Rhaegar Targaryen would appear right before him in that moment, he would commit patricide with his bared hands.

“No Jon! Listen, they were married! In secret! They loved each other! I found the Septon’s diary who married them!”

Jon wanted to shake his friend so much it physically hurt to restrain himself. Why can’t he just spill it all out at once? And what nonsense was this again?

“There is no such a thing as secret marriage Sam. You need witnesses.”

“There were… I think there were, but that’s not important! There was no rape! You are not a bastard! You are the heir of the bloody Seven Kingdoms!”

Jon paled at the last one and with two quick steps, he was before Sam, covering his mouth with both hands. Because Jon’s parents were one thing, but suggesting something like that so quickly and foolishly was suicide! It could lead to another war, for heaven’s sake! Not even a war, just a massacre!

“Don’t even say anything like that again!” He hissed, looking around, fearing that someone might’ve heard despite knowing it was just the two of them. “Daenerys will be queen by the right of conquest in a few moons. There are no heirs anymore, do you understand me?”

Sam pulled away a little and tried to speak.

“But Jon-“

“No! That’s her fuckin life’s work and she’ll make a great queen. I don’t even want the fuckin northern throne! Who gives a shit about the Seven Kingdoms? Don’t we have enough problems as it is?” Sam opened his mouth and closed once again, now looking ashamed. “Not a word of this. To anyone. Ever. This discussion never happened.”

“Right, of course, sorry. I got carried away. I think she’ll make a great queen too, it just slipped out. I mean, my friend being the–“At Jon’s sharp glare, he swallowed “…never mind. You were saying?”

“Good. Now let’s get out of here. Gods know I need to set everything straight in my head.”

With that, he stormed out of the crypts, headache already forming.

***

Because of the assassination attempt, the Shared Court was pushed back into the later parts of the afternoon. The Queen’s guards told him that Daenerys went to fly and clear her head. When he asked Bran if he knew where she went, his brother just smiled at him and said something that should’ve been reassuring, yet made him break out in cold sweat.

“It’s alright Jon. She’ll come back.” 

There was something about the way he said that. Jon was slowly getting used to his little brother (cousin? No, don’t think about that, _not now–)_ stating everything like it was a fact but that doesn’t mean that the phenomenon was rapidly losing its intimidation.

No matter how he asked for clarification, Bran kept staring at the face of the Heart tree, so after a few minutes, he gave up. He went to the Great Hall, where the majority of the lords were already waiting. The news of the assassination attempt spread like wildfire and of course that was on everyone’s mind.

His sisters took it with similar reaction, though for different reasons. Both young women reacted with fear and worry. Arya was mostly concerned for the wellbeing of the queen. The two of them took a liking to each other and Jon already heard about their spar in the yard. The northerners were impressed with the queen, willing to learn the way of the sword, though she was still a little clumsy and lacked the years practice.

Sansa was mostly concerned about the political implication of such a thing. If the queen can been attacked and injured in their lands, or worse killed, every one of her allies will unleash their fury to avenge her. Jon tried to not say anything to that, hurt by the fact that Sansa couldn’t muster up enough care about Daenerys as a person, or if she did, she never spoke about it.

Chasing away the dark thought, he turned his attention towards the great doors, from where the queen should emerge shortly and take her place beside him at the high table.

The Queen… who was also his aunt…

How could this be his life? Just a few hours ago, he could barely avert his gaze from her breasts. His own aunt. The scary part wasn’t even the fact that he might or might not be lusting after her. The scariest part was the fact that even Sam’s revelation couldn’t manage to shatter the attraction he was feeling towards her.

_It’s going to be alright Jon. Just wait until this information properly settles down. All will vanish and you will finally be able to hold a conversation with her without being some part distracted. _

The opening of the doors brought him back to reality.

The queen came into the room and Jon felt his body go rigid. Something changed. Daenerys, who was always a warm and graceful presence now became something else. For a second he thought that this observation might’ve come from the shared blood he now knew about, but no, all of the lords and ladies, even her own officers were casting confused glances at each other.

She was _radiant._ Silver locks, always lively and shining in their own right were now bouncy, almost glowing on their own accord as if her hair was made entirely out of moonbeams. Eyes always fiery and intense twinkled with starlight. Her skin was healthy pink, a color he haven’t seen on her since their first meeting. There was a bounce in her step, coming from visible self-assuredness.

Up until now, he never realized how careful her every movement was before. She always treated everyone and everything around her as if they were made of glass and she was walking on eggshells. Knowing about her power, he figured out the origin of that habit. Now there was none of that. Her steps were sure, her smile was confident and her chest out with positivity and pride.

While he was thinking these, she was talking, saying something about apologies and loosing herself in the flight with her son and even that was _confident._ The woman who was nervous about the opinion of the northern lords was gone, no longer caring if they loved her or not, no longer fearing their reaction to everything she did.

Once she was seated and looked at Jon, they locked gazes for a few moments.

Her cheeks were rosy from the biting air of the flight and he could still see some tears of speed at the corner of her eyes, making her eyes shiny and filled with life. The violet orbs were visibly glowing with a faint aura, just like the ruby on her forehead.

Out of the blue, Jon noticed that she wasn’t wearing her helmet, only her crown. He never saw her with only the crown before. The dark metal was less intimidating while it was on the black helmet. The dragons usually pulled the attention away from the thorny vines and metal spikes. Without them, Daenerys had a halo of darkness around her forehead.

Jon noticed that he was staring when someone, most likely Ser Davos, coughed, alerting him of the dozens of eyes on him. Right. The Court. They should start.

“Welcome back, your grace.” It was a miracle he even found his voice. “We can open the council now. If anyone has a matter to discuss, I bid them to step forward and speak up.”

The first to speak up was a northern lord from a minor house, Lord Darkwood.

“Your Grace, we heard of the assassin. Are you alright?”

Daenerys smiled at the young man, who recently got his title after Ramsay Bolton flayed his father. He wasn’t even in his twenties yet, barely past his eighteenth name’s day, but he already had the familiar gaze of someone who saw too much of life. Seeing that he was forced to witness his father’s torture and execution, then bend the knee to the murderer in order to save his mother and sisters, Jon could understand that look very well.

“Worry not, my lord. The assassin is dead and I’ve been barely scratched. The worst I could say about this is ‘Good riddance’. I actually liked that leather vest very much.” Many lords chuckled around the hall, reassured by the confident ease in her tone. Jon wished he could align the mood like this too. It would make his job so much easier. “But I suppose we should thank the Lion Queen that her first assassin was an idiot. I’d like to use this opportunity to advise the northern royal family as well. I might be the biggest thorn in Cersei’s side right now, but if she gets rid of me, they’ll be the primary targets.”

Jon, who was eyeing the cup of wine before him just a few seconds ago, suddenly decided against it. Daenerys was right. From the moment Cersei Lannister declared herself Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, she also declared the North being in open rebellion by choosing a King for themselves.

“If we are talking about assassins, why not root out the most obvious one?” Another lord spoke, someone whose name was unfamiliar to Jon. He only recognized the crest on the man’s breastplate. House Lumberton.

Everyone searched where his gaze was turned to, following it up until they found the Kingslayer, hunched over in the corner. The man was the exact opposite of the arrogant prick Jon met so many years ago. He was mostly silent and took to himself, though every time Daenerys was in the same room as him, he became pale and fidgety, like he was seeing a ghost and had no way to flee.

The Queen leaned back in her high chair, looking nonchalant if not amused.

“I believe we have nothing to fear from Ser Jaime. A man who killed his king for threatening to burn millions is not someone who would give another ruler a chance to do so.”

The people were all gaping at her like she’s just grown a second head.

“Your Grace, he murdered his own king!”

Daenerys took a sip from her wine and shrugged.

“Someone had to do it and he happened to be the closest volunteer. After what my father did to Richard and Brandon Stark, I’m sure many of you would’ve gladly been in Ser Jaime’s place when he put a sword in my father’s back.”

No one could argue with that, but still. Jon felt like she was missing the point.

“He swore to protect his king. From everything.”

“Yes. And my father swore he’d never ask anything of him that would bring him dishonor and then commanded him to stand by and listen as he raped my mother every night.”

Now _she_ was looking at _him_ like he didn’t get it. At her blunt words, many flinched. Rape in the North was a touchy subject after what happened to their Lady Lyanna and Lady Sansa. More like only to Sansa, though they didn’t knew that. The queen wasn’t done yet.

“If you are made uncomfortable by his presence, my lords and ladies, just say it so. Despite our situation, he is still my prisoner and he will be confined to a tent amongst my blood riders. You need not to suffer his presence if you don’t want to.”

A nervous, long silence stretched over to the hall. Everyone could see her point, yet there was too much bad blood between the Lannisters and the North. In the past two decades, they’ve gotten used to cursing the Kingslayer’s name. Even Jon’s father (_uncle)_ viewed the man as an oath breaker. And encouraged the dislike towards him.

“Maybe that would be the best.” He found himself saying.

“Good.” That word was the most final thing Jon has ever heard in his life. “Ser Jaime, you heard His Grace. Gather your things if you have any and after Court, you’ll follow Qhono here to your new tent.” She gestured towards the Dothraki Commander, who just nodded a few times to his Khaleesi.

Ser Jaime on the other hand was still gaping at the Queen, unable to utter a single word. And many lords were the same too. Whatever happened during her short trip, Daenerys got rid of her restraints and took on a no-nonsense attitude. It was, to everyone’s surprise, a little reassuring. Treating the impending doom like just another bump on the road gave many hope. They were bathing in despair and never even noticed it.

Jon tried to figure out where the small optimism he gathered on Dragonstone disappeared to. While he was in the dragon stronghold, he felt like they can do this. They have weapons, armies, strategies and dragons. Yet after he came back to North, despite their armories expansion, his hopes were drying up.

“I heard Your Grace is planning a feast?” Sansa prompted, changing the subject.

The queen smiled and snuffed out a laugh. “Calling it a feast would be an over exaggeration. It’s more of a Dothraki thing. Having one last night of fun before heading out for battle. I figured we would welcome anyone who wishes to attend and lift his spirits a little. Though I tried to ask them to be as restrained as they can be…” She shot an amused glance towards her Commander and the brown skinned man’s face was split into a wide grin. “Well, I can make no promises for drunk people. We can make place for a more reserved area though, if your soldiers are curious.”

Not many of the northerners looked curious, but none of them dared to reject the Queen’s open invitation to her face. The North was a very reserved and modest land. Jon saw the Dothrakis hold this ‘feast’ the night before they headed out for Winterfell and so much… freedom wouldn’t necessarily appeal to many in this hall.

“I’d gladly attend. I was always curious about the Dothraki celebrations.” Arya, who was leaning against a pillar after refusing to take a seat at the high table, smiled at the queen. “It’ll be just like in the stories.”

“Aye, I’ll go too. As far as I can tell, these men can celebrate like a true member of the Free Folk.” Tormund raised his horn towards Commander Qhono and the man returned the gesture.

“Everyone will be welcome. I’d like to make this night memorable for everyone.” Jon had a feeling that no one had the faintest idea just _how_ memorable she’ll make it. “Though after the feast, we must part for a while.” She looked at Jon, her eyes prompting.

“Yes. The Queen expressed her concerns about The Wall, our best defense being grossly unmanned and offered us twenty thousand excellent archers and soldiers to man every castle. She also offered to go with her dragons and do some scouting on the other side of The Wall.”

***

Daenerys was surprised and even flattered at the response to the king’s words.

She thought that she might’ve lost some respect in their eyes while not so much defending, but absolving Jaime Lannister of regicide, yet the lords out yelled each other, expressing their willingness to join her. She almost didn’t manage to keep her face expressionless. So eager to fight.

She took another sip of her wine. They couldn’t know that she had no intention of venturing too much into the Lands of Always Winter. After her free fall, she can command the Fire Eye without an issue. Not to mention that she can look into the flames without fear any moment. R’Hllor wanted this victory at The Wall. He’ll show her the enemies when it’s time. Now that she had her own magic to see anything she wanted, he can no longer hide things so easily.

“Calm down, my lords and ladies!”

Poor King in the North. He was still afraid to properly command these men. Growing up a bastard must’ve damaged his confidence and self-esteem deeply. She just hoped that one day he’ll stop letting them hold his birth situation above his head.

She let them settle this between themselves.

She rubbed the plates of her armor right above her breasts and smiled. Despite the sturdy, unknown metal, the hardened leather vest and the black shirt she wore, she felt the small glass dome being pressed to her skin and breasts with an almost cool touch. After she and Drogon were done with playing she took of the armor to see if the feeling on her chest was something real or just her imagination. And sure enough, there was an almost palm sized glass dome, gleaming faintly with many dots of light, as if there was a captured fragment of sky inside her chest. Just like in her vision.

Somehow the thought didn’t scare her. Whatever this was, it felt _right_. Just like when the voice called her _Lightbringer_. As if she was greeted by an old friend after a long time of separation. She mused at that name ever since. As far as she knew the prophecy of Azor Ahai, Lightbringer was supposed to be a sword. Was there something last to translation? Did the text change as it was passed down generation after generation?

Whatever the case was, Daenerys felt _right_ like never before. She no longer felt as if her skin could barely contain her or as if she had to be extremely careful with everything and everyone around her. Without her noticing, she treated the world like it was fragile, made of glass. She was afraid of her own powers and afraid of losing control of them. Ironically, that might’ve been the reason why she lost her temper so much. Fear. Of herself. Or her power.

Now she felt no fear. Everything that she is now is what she was always meant to be. This and so much more. Her head was buzzing with ideas about how to protect and nurture her lands, how to make alliances, how to handle the situation of Essos, how to make it so that as many people are happy as possible.

She hid her amused smile behind her cup of wine after the northerners managed to quiet down.

“The queen and I have already laid out the plans. Everyone already has a role. I understand your wish to destroy them as soon as possible, I wholeheartedly share this sentiment. But the fate of humanity is at stake. We cannot afford to be tactless. We need to make sure that even if we fall, those who can’t fight themselves will be as far south as possible.”

His words shocked the men and women present.

“South, Your Grace? You intend to send our families South?”

The king looked at her but she will not intervene. This must be his decision. If she speaks up now, she will be the one cursed if the plan fails and he will be the one praised if they succeed. King Jon needs to learn to command and rule his people when he knows what’s best for them.

“It’ll be only for the duration of the war and the Queen promised they’ll be waited with food and shelters.”

“But what if something happens to them… on their way.”

The last part was quickly added by the old lord when he realized how blatantly he disrespected Daenerys’s regards for her given word and the rules of hospitality. She chose to not address the comment, but made sure not to forget it. Despite some people slowly beginning to warm up to her, she knew very well that her presence was considered an unwelcomed one still.

“And what if we lose, my lord?” The king asked and he seemed to flush with anger. “What will happen to those who cannot protect themselves if our defenses fall and our gates are broken through? When the dead swarm the castle and rip apart everyone they find inside? Is that the fate any of you wish for your family?”

He was angry. Some part of her was surprised, because up until this point, he met everything wilt resignation rather than resistance. Something changed. Yesterday he said he will present the option. Now he is giving a command. Something warm spread inside her chest. Almost like pride. This man had so much potential in him and it was pleasing to see him dig his heel in for once and make his people do what’s best for them.

She saw that many of the lords grumbled at his command, but none objected. She’s seen the face of Sansa Stark from the corner of her eyes and had trouble identifying the young woman’s expression. Some part pleased, some part worried. There was some frustration in her eyes as well. Interesting.

The Raven was stoic as always and seemingly didn’t pay much attention to what was happening around him. Rather, as if sensing her gaze, he locked eyes with her before embracing a small smile. Daenerys returned the gesture. Arya was the most easy to decipher. She was happy and proud of her big brother. Good to know the king had some unwavering support behind him.

Returning her gaze to said king, she realized that he was rapidly regretting his outburst. Daenerys suppressed the urge to sigh. From out of nowhere, a young voice spoke up.

“You are chased by assassins and go to a dangerous place. Take me with you. I always wanted to see the Wall anyway.”

Daenerys let her surprise show at Arya’s offer. The young woman pushed herself away from the pillar and grabbed the hilt of her sword with a determined expression. The king worked his lips into a thin line, eyes unreadable.

“Arya…”

“I’m sorry brother, but any place that is too dangerous for an assassin is no place where a queen should go alone. I want to make sure you are alright if you’ll have me.”

The offer was a surprising, but welcome one. It warmed her heart to see that the girl worries about her, even if it’s because of an unsaid agenda. Few other northerners expressed the same curtsy and Arya struck her as someone honest and straightforward. It was hard to imagine someone like her stewing a devious plot or trying to gain any political benefit from a possible friendship.

“Thank you. Naturally, you can come if you wish.”

The girl nodded with a sure head and leaned back against the pillar with a smirk on her face. She shot a look to her sister that Daenerys could only interpret as teasing or purposefully annoying. The Princess didn’t react anything.

After this, there were only general issues. Food, weapons, soldiers and such. Daenerys listened and said nothing. After a while, when a longer silence reigned in the hall, she turned towards the Raven.

“Do you know where he is now?”

“He is still far. Probably a month away from the Wall. But he is marching day and night.”

“We need to be quick then. We don’t know how the Wall will hold. Anyone between the Wall and Winterfell needs to be evacuated or put into arms.”

The King in the North nodded.

“Tomorrow the portion of the army will head out.”

“I shall go tonight, after the feasts.” Daenerys said, drinking the rest of her wine. “The sooner I see the condition of the castles, the sooner I can make plans.”

After this, every conversation came to a natural end and they finished the Shared Council. Daenerys stood up and walked over to the Raven with a smile on her face. The young sorcerer smiled back at her with something akin to pride in his eyes.

“I did it!” She whispered excitedly. “I can use it without a problem now.”

“I knew you will be able to do it. Still, I must advise you to be careful. It took me many months to get used to my ability. Yours is balanced by the Fire Eye, but I suggest you practice on neutral events first. Make sure you have a grip on it before you look at anything that may cause an emotional response.”

“I’ll do that. Thank you. For everything. I’m still confused about some things, but this was a huge step forward.”

The Raven nodded.

“I always knew you have a great part in this. I don’t know if that title is meant to express your role in the war to come or it’s referring to someone else. Nevertheless, it’s good to have you here, Lightbringer.”

“I’ll do my best to make sure everything will turn out right. I promise you that.”

They bid farewell to each other with an affectionate nod, knowing very well that they won’t meet for a long time. Bran won’t come to see her at the feast and after that, she will immediately fly out. There’s a chance that they’ll never meet again, if something goes wrong at the Wall. That’s why she thanked him in public, while still hoping there will be a next time.

She went back to her room along with Missandei.

“I’ll take some furs with me, just in case, but I doubt I’ll get out of the armor much.” She said, while packing a few garments that she’ll need on the long journey. Her oldest friend smiled and produced something from a chest. She stopped packing, taking in the fur with awed eyes.

“I made this for you, Your Grace. You can fasten it around your neck, like a scarf and it can be used along with your capes.”

She took the pitch black fur from her friend’s hands. It was something similar to what the King in the North wears on his cloak all the time, but this was just a fur with a few clasps she can use to fasten it to her breastplate and shoulder armor.

“It’s a marvelous gift, my friend. I’ll treasure it.”

They hugged tightly. Since the day they met, Daenerys went from war to war, always conquering or protecting her own and Missandei always followed her everywhere, not bothered by the fact that it takes only one loss on Daenerys’s part and they might die. Some part of Daenerys was always afraid that she might lead everyone into death, but her nature couldn’t be stopped. She had an unfaltering urge to gather, to nurture, to conquer. It was the dragon inside, there was no doubt about that.

Still, Missandei never called her greedy. The two of them always saw eye to eye. She knew that Daenerys didn’t conquer for the sake of power. She conquered so she can make the lives of the people better. They can paint her ruthless and maybe some part of her was. Maybe it was ego and entitlement that made her think that she could give better to these people than the things they already have. But when she looked at the chainless wrists of the people she cherished in her heart, she thought it was worth it.

Saving them and keeping them safe was worth it. No matter what the world says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know what this looks like, but I promise I'm going somewhere with the Lightbringer stuff XD I'm not planning on buthering the prophecy like the show, I just use... uh... my right for free interpretation XD


	19. Chapter 19

The feast brought a strange melancholy to her mind.

She was looking at her soldiers eating, drinking, fighting, dancing and generally having fun. It reminded her of somewhat simpler times. When she rode alongside her husband on the Dothraki Sea, travelling during the day and celebrating during the night. When he kissed her belly and his beard tickled her skin. When she caressed the dragon eggs, whispering a thousand secrets to them.

Her children.

All three of them were so big now. And so smart. Dragons had a special and unique type of intelligence. Something similar to a human’s, but not quite. Daenerys liked to think she understood them. She liked to think she had a motherly bond with all three of them. That they can read her as much as she can read them.

Cheers erupted somewhere on her tight and she felt a smile tug her lips.

Drogon let out an annoyed screech at his little brother. Rhaegal huffed of course, always ready to rise to the challenge. Viserion almost visibly rolled his eyes at his brother’s antics and snuggled his head closer to Daenerys. She chuckled and caressed his scales, murmuring soft promises of love and protection.

The Dothraki made a place for her sons close to the festivities. It amazed her how used they were to the dragons. Young riders made bets and some slowly inched towards Drogon, putting down an already roasted goat before the mighty beast and bowed respectfully. Her largest son sniffed the offering and rumbled deep in his throat before snatching it up. He bit the goat in two with ease, swallowed one part and put the other down before Daenerys.

Rhaegal, who was eyeing the meat with a hungry expression didn’t make a move, though he was radiating disappointment. Daenerys chuckled and looked up at Drogon, plating a kiss on his nose.

“_Thank you my dear, but your mother has already ate her fill. Give it to your brother instead.”_

Drogon looked down at the half goat and then up at Rhaegal. The green and bronze dragon, who had the personality of a second son, raised his head, but pretended to look towards the camp where the other animals were being roasted. Drogon took a long look at his brother and when he lowered his head again Daenerys already knew he was going to mess with his brother.

Drogon pushed the meat towards Viserion.

It’s hard to put into words how a dragon can look offended and a little crestfallen, but Rhaegal managed perfectly. Viserion refused to take part in his brother’s games and ignored the meat. Drogon huffed and ate it.

_“Drogon, sweetheart, be nice to your brother!”_

Before the two larger dragons could get into an already stirring fight, another Dothraki lad came closer with a cooked goat in hand, a little pale, but determined to do what his predecessor had done. He put the meat down before Rhaegal and bowed, backing away.

The dragon gave a smug look to the black one and ate the meat at once.

The third goat was offered to Viserion. The creamy dragon seemed to be in cuddling and playful mood. He blew a gentle puff of smoke on the lad’s hair and almost pushed him with his muzzle. Once the shock has worn down, the young rider went back to the others, beating his chest proudly, claiming to be marked by one of the greatest beasts alive.

Daenerys left the dragons to their own shortly after that. The three siblings were greatly respected by the Dothraki and the dragons had never hurt a rider before. She let the men have fun, offering them one roasted meat after the other. She liked to think that despite their true dragon nature, her sons were smart and docile enough to no cause any problems for her.

While on her way to the greatest fire made by the northerners at the orders of the king, one rider gave her a horn of ale. She didn’t really liked the taste but the last she checked, that was not the point of drinking. Hopefully she won’t get too drunk.

The northern party sat at one side of the fire, looking a little gloomy. Especially Princess Sansa, who was most likely expected to be here, but less than thrilled about it. Arya was sitting on the king’s other side, talking with a young man. Taking a closer look, Daenerys recognized him. The blacksmith who checked Drogon’s saddle. It seems they liked each other well enough, because they were talking and grinning. Was that a blush on Gendry’s cheeks? Maybe it was from the ale.

The Free Folk was scattered on the other side, making friends and other types of acquaintances fast. It seems language was no problem for they spoke the language of fighting, fucking and drinking on both sides. It warmed her heart to see them have fun so freely.

Horns were beginning to be raised as more and more riders noticed her. She grinned at the crowd.

_“Blood of my blood! Tomorrow, we march to glorious battle. Some of us will die in battle, no doubt. Those who do, give my regards to the Great Stallion and my husband Drogo on the other side!” _Roars and cheers from all around her. _“But tonight, we celebrate life! So let our blood boil! We shall drink, fight and fuck until the Sun comes up!”_

More cheers, loud as thunder this time. She raised her horn and drank all the ale from it, aware of her people watching her. Once she was done, she threw the horn into the fire, making a big tongue of flame strike out towards the sky.

She saw Daario from the corner of her eye and stepped towards him, grabbing his arm before he could pour down the horse milk on his throat and get thoroughly wasted.

_“You are coming to the Wall with me.” _She smile was teasing. _“If you throw up on my back, I’ll throw you off.”_

He made an over dramatic, long suffering sigh._ “But there are no women on the Wall!”_

She feigned offence. _“What am I then?”_

_“You know what I mean!”_

_“Can’t you function without sinking your cock into someone every night?”_

_“I would like to deny the accusation, but in truth, I have no idea.”_

A smirk graced her lips and she whispered into his ear.

_“Then I suggest you don’t waste your time with drinking. We’ll head out in about two hours.”_

She later watched him getting into a fight with a rider over his younger sister. She was already sitting by the fire then, next to the King in the North’s family, who began to look uneasy at the commotion the two men was making. It was clear this wouldn’t be a friendly brawl like the others until now.

“Shouldn’t you stop them?” The Princess asked, seemingly not knowing if she should look or turn away.

“Maybe you’re right.” Daenerys hummed under her nose. “_Daario! Rharo! If one of you dares to kill the other, I’ll tie him to Rhaegal’s tail and drag him till the Wall!”_

Laughter erupted around them. The two men bowed their heads towards her and visibly stripped themselves from any lethal weapons. Just to anger the rider further, Daario dropped his weapons before his sister, giving her a wink in the process. Their fight didn’t really amused Daenerys, since she didn’t find joy in brawls, but it helped the mood of the feast and no one was in real danger, so she let them have their manly way of problem solving.

“They are still fighting.” Princess Sansa observed.

“They are men. Few of their kind prefer words to fists. Let them get it out of their system. They’ll drink together again after an hour or so.” Daenerys returned to her much preferred wine and took a sip, washing away the taste of the ale.

“It seems just as violent.” While she said that, Rharo spat out a teeth and charged again.

“It’s clear at least.” The King in the North grumbled into his cup, seemingly wishing for something stronger. “No backstabbing, no ganging up on anyone. I could see why they prefer it to politics.”

“So you condone it?” Princess Sansa didn’t seem to be too pleased with her brother.

“I don’t like violence. I’m just saying its clearer. They get it over with and then forget about it and don’t sulk and plan for years to tear the other’s life apart.”

Daenerys was sure she heard the unspoken ‘unlike someone’ hang in the air and for a moment, she didn’t know whose direction it was aimed. Most likely none of them present, but there was a flash of something in the Princess’s eyes. The young woman’s eyes grew cold and she stood up.

“Forgive me, Your Graces. I find myself in need of fresh air.”

“Let me accompany you for a while. I feel the same.”

Daenerys stood and put down her cup. She didn’t really knew this young Princess yet and despite the cold shoulder she received so far, she genuinely wanted to get to know her a little. Princess Sansa didn’t object, so they headed towards a less populated area. When the sounds of celebrations were starting to quiet down with the distance, Daenerys spoke.

“I apologize if the feast makes you uncomfortable. I know this kind of violence and free celebration is not the way of the North.”

“No need to apologize, Your Grace. It’s their culture. Father said we should respect everyone’s uniqueness. I try to do so, but I find myself lacking experience on the matter. I’ve mostly lived in Winterfell and King’s Landing. Not many unfamiliar cultures to meet there.” She took a soft breath and looked towards the blurred dark horizon. “Besides, my distaste for this kind of violence is more of a personal thing, to be honest.”

Daenerys found herself nodding. She clasped her fingers before herself.

“I could understand and share this sentiment to some extent. I never liked violence being a form of entertainment. I was forced to get accommodated to it in Essos, but I’ve never gotten fully used to it. I suppose war does that to people.”

“War and cruelty.”

They were silent for a while, though still slowly trailing towards nowhere in particular. Daenerys caressed the hilt of Remembrance. The Fire Eye was faintly buzzing on her forehead, gaining some unprompted heat in the process. This puzzled Daenerys, but before she could try to focus on what this meant, the Princess spoke again.

“I’m sorry for what I said during the feast. About the apologies.”

“I don’t think there’s any need. You spoke no lies.”

“It was still inappropriate from me. You gave us so much and asked for nothing in return. We owe you our lives. We should be thankful and kind, not… unwelcome and biting.”

Daenerys felt a small smile tug her mouth and an amused huff left her chest.

“I’m told its part of your northern charm. Along with the constant brooding, of course.”

The princess smiled faintly, her usually cold eyes warm. She was taller than Daenerys and beautiful. A fire princess kissed by ice. Daenerys looked into her eyes and saw the result of years of suffering and pain. Sansa Stark was mistreated and abused for a long time. It left an everlasting mark on her soul. Daenerys felt a sort of kinship towards her. Their lives were vastly different, but their grievances were quite similar of you bare them down to the bone.

A lost family. Lost innocence. Abuse. Rape.

Even if the two of them would never be on good terms like in her vision, Daenerys didn’t want to see Sansa Stark suffer anymore.

“I don’t want you to feel indebted to me, Your Highness. We are fighting for the future of the living. Besides, I’ve claimed to be ‘Protector of the Realm’. This is kind of what it means.”

“But the North isn’t part of the Realm anymore.” She tasted the words, as if they were still foreign on her tongue. “We are independent.” She said that word as if it was salvation made flesh. Then a small pause. “You never asked us the bend the knee.”

“I didn’t. There was no reason for me to do so.”

“Why? Isn’t it supposed to be your birthright?”

“My birthright.” Daenerys barked out a dry laugh, thinking about her brother. “I came into this word as Daenerys Stormborn, Princess of Nothing, Heir to Nothing. My brother and father has lost the war. The Targaryens lost claim to Westeros the second Robert Baratheon sat on the Iron Throne. This is something that Viserys, my brother never realized and it took me many years to do so.”

She remembered their life on the streets. How it broke his brother. How it broke some part of her. The fall of a dynasty is never easy, not by any means to the survivors. They were the constant targets of mockery. They lived on the pity of others. The Beggar King and the Princess of Nothing. Remnants of a time past.

“What was it like?” She found herself asking. “Growing up in a castle?”

Princess Sansa had a nostalgic look on her face.

“It was nice. Carefree. I never knew how impossibly good I had it. My biggest problems were Arya’s mischiefs. I always used to scream ‘You’re ruining everything!’.” She laughed, a bitter and sad thing. “As if a spot on a dress would mean the end of the world. I wish I could go back. My life shattered the day my father lost his head. Every night I prayed to the old gods and the new to let me back into Winterfell. ‘Please, just get me home. I don’t care how.’ Then I got home. And with it I got a husband. A torturer.” She blinked away a sheen of tears. “He ruined it for me. My home. I don’t feel safe inside my own walls. Maybe I’ll never be safe.”

“You will be safe.” Daenerys felt the need to reassure her. “When this war is over, I’ll take the Iron Throne and we can finally end the wars. The North will have food to last through the winter and after that, you can stand on your own leg, as an independent kingdom for as long as my will matters something in this world.”

The princess looked like everything Daenerys just said painted a nice picture in her head, yet she didn’t dare to imagine it as a possible reality.

“What was it like? Growing up on the streets?”

“In the beginning, we had a small house. Me, my brother and a knight that was still loyal to us. A house with a red door and a lemon tree on the front. The problems started when out protector died. My brother tried the best to keep us alive, but we became beggars. Going around barefoot and in rags. It changed him. Bit by bit. Something broke inside him the day he sold our mother’s crown.” She absentmindedly rubbed her chest, where the ring was hanging from a silver lance. The last bit of that silver. “He became something dark. Determined to get back and claim his throne, no matter the cost. He sold me to my husband, Khal Drogo just to get his army. On the day of my engagement, I tried to get him to change his mind. Do you know what he said?”

The Princess shook her head, her expression soft.

“He cupped my cheek and said. ‘Well go home with an army. Khal Drogo’s army. I’ll let him and the whole khalasar fuck you if that’s what it takes. All forty thousand men and their horses too.’ Call me mad, but some part of me still loved him, even after that. Even after he beat me up over and over. He was my brother. The last of my kind. I knew he would never take us to Westeros. My husband would never have fulfilled his end of the bargain. But then he did one thing I could never forgive.”

The Princess was visibly pale at this point, even shaking. Daenerys had no idea if that was from the cold wind or if her story moved something inside her. Stirred a memory she never wanted to revisit.

“He threatened to take me back. He said my husband can keep our child that was growing inside me. He’ll just cut it out and leave it for him. Have you been pregnant before, Princess?”

“Never.” She confessed. “Thank the gods for that. I’m not sure I could’ve loved the child of that monster.”

Daenerys nodded with a hum.

“That would’ve been unnecessarily cruel. There’s something in being a mother, though. The second he mentioned my son, something stilled inside me. Suddenly I didn’t hear any sounds around us. Didn’t see anything but the edge of the blade on my stomach. There wasn’t anything in the world but the two of us. The second he threatened my baby, he was no longer my brother. After so many years he finally found the one thing no mother could ever forget. So I let my husband kill him for it. I let it happen and I watched it happen. Sadly, it didn’t give me any peace. There was no satisfaction. Only some dull pain at his death and a deathly ease. My son was safe. Nothing else mattered.”

The Princess had a horrified expression on her face, but it slowly turned into something else. There was understanding there and something welcoming. An emotion Daenerys had never experienced from her before. When the young woman spoke, there was no condemnation in her voice.

“You and my mother would’ve seen eye to eye in that. ‘Nothing is fiercer than a mother protecting her children’.” She sighed and turned to the starless, cloudy sky above them. “I hoped I would finally be at peace when I killed Ramsay. It gave me satisfaction, seeing him being torn apart. But the fear he put into me still lingers.”

“The bad memory is still fresh, if I have my facts right. I’m sure it’ll fade in time. You have a country to guide now and a king to serve. Responsibilities will take your mind off of it.”

“I sure hope so.”

Silence stretched around them and Daenerys realized how far they’ve strayed from the festivities. There was only snow and darkness around them. Ice cold, some biting wind and just the faint noises of the people having fun. The only thing that radiated warmth was Daenerys herself and the Fire Eye upon her forehead.

She suddenly had a bad feeling, closed her eyes, disguising the motion with rubbing her two eyelids, feigning sleepiness. While she did that, using the Fire Eye’s magic, she scouted the area. It didn’t take long, the third figure practically drew her gaze towards themselves. Suddenly the bad feeling and the unprompted flare of the Fire Eye’s magic was explained.

Yet another assassin. On the same day. Cersei Lannister must be desperate to spend her remaining gold on hired killers. She was just lashing out now. Even if Daenerys found her demise here, she couldn’t have every one of her followers killed. They’ll take the capital no matter what. This was just a last desperate attempt to drag Daenerys down with her.

She would have none of it.

“We strayed far from the others. I suggest we move back.”

The princess looked around and realized she was right. Nodding softly, they turned around. The sound of wind filled both of their ears, but Daenerys knew there was another sound in there, hiding for now, waiting for the perfect opportunity. She walked close to the princess and whispered.

“There’s an assassin to our right.” The girl paled a little but she held her composure. “Don’t worry. Let’s switch places, I have armor on.”

“I have a chainmail under.” She whispered back.

Sansa complied as Daenerys pretended to let her do ahead for a while, as if the path narrowed down too much for two person and then stepped on her other side, ready to raise her metal cape and defend from a bolt if necessary. Just a few seconds more. She really hoped the assassin wouldn’t target the other woman. Chainmail or no, she was way more vulnerable than Daenerys.

Instincts flaring, she moved along with her magic, raising the cape. The strike forced her back a little and she stumbled towards the princess.

“Get on the ground, quick!” She didn’t drew Remembrance yet, since the other was up on the hill and she was down here. Climbing it in the snow would be too much of a challenge for now.

“What should we do?” The princess seemed calm in her fear, which was good. Fear was a little more rational than panic.

Another bolt came towards them and she managed to dodge with the magical warnings.

“Just a second more!”

A roar filled the air and out of nowhere Viserion’s enormous shape was over them, covering the princess and his mother with his wings, hissing towards the hill. A rumble signaled Rhaegal landing right beside him, beating his wings furiously. Daenerys saw fire light up the night and she knew Drogon was upon their assaulter.

“Princess Sansa, are you alright?” She helped the young woman up, who was casting awed and fearful look towards the huge beast that was cradling them for now.

“I am fine. How did they know?” She was obviously talking about the dragons.

Daenerys smiled.

“I am their mother. They come when I need them.”

Seconds after that, Viserion pushed his head under his own wings like a bird, chirping worriedly at his mother and nudging her with his nose. She laughed and reassured him that it was fine. Soon Rhaegal’s head was pushed under too, sniffing at the two woman. Daenerys looked at Princess Sansa with a smile.

“What do you think?”

“They are so… gentle. And affectionate.”

“Want to touch him?”

The princess of the north looked nervous.

“I don’t think I should. I have none of the Valyrian blood.”

“Most of my companions don’t. Don’t worry. They are just as intelligent as we are. You have nothing to fear from them while I’m here.”

With a slow nod, the young woman slowly inched closed, raising her hand which was trembling a little. It took her almost whole minute to actually touch Viserion’s nose, but when she did, a gasp escaped her lips.

“He is so warm!”

Daenerys chuckled.

“Well, he is a dragon.”

“I know, but I imagined… I don’t know. Burning hot? Rough scales? But he is soft and warm.”

Her son managed to work his magic on the princess it seems. The young Stark woman was in awe of the dragon, caressing him with both hands now, eyes sparkling like Daenerys has never seen before. It suddenly occurred to her that the Stark children, just like every noble in Westeros was taught the history of the Targaryen house and were told about dragons, but never actually seen one. Just in the stories. Gallant Dragon Knights and Warrior Princesses. Now she knew why everyone here was looking at them differently than the people of Essos did. Here, they were fairy tales made flesh.

An annoyed roar broke the idyllic mood and the princess flinched back a little. Daenerys was quick to reassure her.

“That’s Drogon. Hold on. _Viserion dear, open your wings please.”_

The dragon did so without much of a fuss and sniffed at Sansa, purring like the giant cat he was at heart. Once Drogon was in sight, the Princess of Winterfell lost much of her bravado and took a few steps back. The mighty black beast looked annoyed and angry and she didn’t want to bring his ire on herself.

_“Alright, grumpy, alright. Mother is fine. See? No wounds. You were in time, as always. Now come here.”_

He was still angrily pushing her around with his nose and chirping like he was the angry parent and Daenerys was the unruly child. While she didn’t understand every impression, she was sure that he was lecturing her about wondering off alone in the night while people are actively endangering her life. It took a few minutes of placating and promising to get him to calm down, but he was still grumpy, refusing to accept her peace making kisses.

“_Alright. Have it your way then._”

She turned back to the princess with an amused smile.

“He is always grumpy, don’t mind him. We shall head back. I’m sure our absence has been noted already, especially after that fire show.”

“Right. We shall. After you, Your Grace.”

The dragons took off but kept close while they made their way back to the camp. True to her assumptions, the riders noticed her absence along with the absence of her sons and were looking around, growing a little panicked with each second. The situation was the same with the northern party, who were looking for their princess. The moment they stepped back into camp, the King in the North was upon them.

“Where were you? Are you alright?”

“We are unhurt, Your Grace, no need to worry. Just had an unfortunate run in with yet another assassin. Unfortunate for him that is, since Drogon gave him some quality time with a real predator.”

The Princess besides her huffed in what was the beginning of a laugh, surprising the king and her to a great deal. It seems they were finally off to a good start in their relationship.

“Did Cersei Lannister send him?”

“I don’t know. My son decided to skip the interrogation part.”

Since none of them were hurt, the matter was resolved somewhat efficiently, yet everyone became a little tenser. Her soldiers were infuriated by the fact that their queen was attacked two times on the same day, while the northerners were worried about their princess. Some of them began to talk about the fire incident in the woods again.

She found the gaze of the King. Both of them were thinking the same. This was the time. He looked like he was nervous about this the whole night and now his anxiety had culminated. Beside her, he took a breath that was mildly trembling and stood up. She knew how hard this must be for him. Asking your people to believe in marching dead is one thing. Asking them to believe in a pyromancer that can offer next to no proof was another.

She gestured for the drummers to stop and bid her people to silence as soon as he stood up. All eyes turned to him.

“My lords and ladies. I’m sure all of you thought about what happened in the woods today, at least once. Where the fire came from. I wondered myself and went to ask the queen about it. She told me something that will sound very difficult to believe.”

Many whispered amongst themselves. Sansa and Arya looked at each other and then at her. The King did too. His eyes was pleading for her to take the mantle. She decided that just this once. She will handle this since it was her open-secret.

She stood up, getting the attention of the crowd.

“My lords and ladies. You all know my name. I am Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen, the blood of the Old Valyria. What you don’t know is what this name really means. There was no dragon in the woods today. Only me. I have magic.” Despite the murmurs, she didn’t stop. “I cannot control it just yet. I went to the woods to calm my head. My magic bursts to the surface when I’m angry and I didn’t want to hurt anybody. The assassin chose the wrong moment to approach me.”

She could see the disbelief in their eyes, but some of them didn’t seem unconvinced. They cast a glance towards where her sons made nest in the middle of the camp and almost visibly asked themselves, if such a claim would be really so farfetched after birthing dragons from stone.

“I don’t ask you to believe this without proof. That would be absurd. But since I cannot command the fire just yet, I have to restore to the other manifestation of my magic.” She gestured towards the pyre. “You made this fire. You know it’s real, you feel its heat. Now, let me show you I was telling nothing but the truth.”

***

That night Daenerys Stormborn performed one of her many miracles.

She walked over to the fire with sure steps and Arya felt her disbelief morph into awe with every step she took. The pyre, like a mountain of flames stood before the queen, dancing to its own tune. As the silver queen approached, tendrils of flames shot out towards her, as if the fire itself was inviting her into an embrace.

Her form seemed darker than the night itself, surrounded by a halo of fire.

She just walked over to the wall of flame like it was nothing and reached out, bare hands unhurt by the intense heat. Drawing her valyrian steel blade, she pushed it into the flames and kept it there for minutes. There wasn’t enough heat to make the steel blaze, but there was no way anyone could hold that handle without their flesh burning to cinders in seconds.

Yet she drew the blade out. For a second, it seemed like the drawn blade was entirely made out of white hot flames. Daenerys held it like it was cool to the touch, twirling it between graceful fingers. On Arya’s right Ser Davos but Arya was too mesmerized by Daenerys’s form to turn away.

“The Unburnt” Someone whispered behind her.

The Dothraki and Unsullied soldiers all around them bent the knee, some even putting their foreheads on the ground in reverence. The silver queen took one last glance behind herself at her people and then stepped into the fire. Arya saw how the pyre was made, how it contained a small room reinforced with steel inside. No one knew what it was for. Now they did. The queen disappeared behind the flames and there were no screams.

The three dragons roared in triumph, crawling closer from their nest in the camp and shooting blades of fire towards the night sky. The Black Beast alone came even closer, making everyone else back up with his gigantic form. Arya never saw the dragons from this close before and Drogon the Black, as people called him on the other side of the Narrow Sea, was the mightiest of the three.

He opened his wings giving one last regal roar before his chest flared up and he blew an inferno of fire onto the pyre that contained his mother. Many staggered backwards with shocked gasps westerosi and free folk alike cried out in terror yet the essosi were standing again, waiting in silence for the beast to finish.

When he did, the whole campfire was reduced to cinders and nothing more, human sized flames slowly dying out. In the last powerful seconds, flames shot out in three directions and Arya swore that she saw a stretching dragon take shape in those flames for just a moment.

Then the fire was out and Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen stood there.

And didn’t have a single hair burned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That last scene... I aint too proud, just glad it finally took shape XD


	20. Chapter 20

Daenerys went to change after the spectacle.

While her armor and sword didn’t even feel the flames of Drogon, her fabric and leather garments were burnt to crisp and ash. A bath was already waiting for her, prepared by her handmaidens. Missandei helped her out of the armor.

“_You think they are convinced yet?”_ Daenerys asked with a chuckle.

The naathi girl had an amused expression on her face.

_“I’m certain some of them think you more goddess than queen now.”_

_“Or a sorceress.”_ The thought wasn’t far from the truth, but it carried dangerous implications.

_“I don’t think they’d try their luck with a sorceress either, Your Grace. Not after you stepped out of dragon fire. You walk away from battles without a single scratch. Two assassination attempts in a single day and here you are, uninjured, while those who strike to harm you are nothing but ashes.”_

Out of her armor, Daenerys stepped into the warm bath and began to scrub the ashes from her skin with an amused smile on her face. She kept seeing their completely awed expressions in her mind. By the gods, she felt powerful then. For a single second she felt like the moment she walked out of the burning tent in Vaes Dothrak.

There was a time when she had doubts. Felt like she acted too righteous instead of careful. But since her awakening in the sky, all of these thoughts were swept away. She began to explore her magic, learn her boundaries in everything. Diplomacy, kindness, ruthlessness. It was a strange feeling. Getting to know herself after two decades.

The old Daenerys would’ve had doubts about the death of the two assassins. Would’ve wondered if fire way too cruel of a way to go. But now she knew for sure. Her fire and dragon fire were like swords. Like guillotines. They kill in a heartbeat. There’s no pain. Just instant death.

She heard a gasp from Missandei.

The woman’s gaze was fixed in her chest, where the small dome of glass and stars made a nest for itself. Its light broke on the water surface, calling upon a lightshow of a thousand colors. Daenerys smiled at her and rubbed at the crystal with a fond gesture.

“_Your Grace… what is that?”_

_“I don’t know.”_ Her answer was honest. “_But it feels right. It feels warm and whole.”_

She gestured for her friend to come closer. Missandei did, eyes sparkling at the sight of the mesmerizing phenomenon. Daenerys let her touch the surface of it, feel its warmth. Her entire being shuddered when Missandei’s fingertip touched the glass and judged by the way the translator pulled her finger away, she felt it too.

“_It’s warm. Tingles to the touch.”_

_“I told you so.” _They smiled at each other, humor on their faces. What a world they were living in, if they can smile and laugh at a miracle like this. “_Let’__s keep this between us for now.”_

Missandei agreed and left to get Daario and Arya Stark so they can head out once she is done with her bath. While she was away, Daenerys washed her face too, hands bumping into the crown still on her head. She caressed the black metal in a fond way and even though she was in the present, the crown still on her head, one image refused to fade away from her mind.

She took a glance towards the flames in the middle of the room, and sure enough, she saw a figure inside. Herself. Her armor mostly a same, with the exception of a long, red, skirt like fabric around her hips and between her legs. The Fire Eye was embedded into her armor right above where her Glass Heart was. But the crown. The crown made her shudder.

It was made out of a dark, wide circle and thirteen black spikes, all pointing towards the sky. On the middle, right at the base of the thirteenth spike was another gem, that one white as the moonlight. She frowned at the sight of her future crown.

“_It looks sinister. Must I wear it?”_

_You don’t have to. But you’ll want to. I know you will._

Daenerys pulled up her legs and let her face sink halfway into the water, mouth and nose covered for now. It’s not like she wasn’t looking forward to being that woman, who radiated power and grace. She was halfway there already. But she didn’t think having a crown looking that sinister might be a good influence on her reign. On the other hand, this crown didn’t look too inviting either, with spikes and thorns.

But, she supposed, it was right in some way. She wouldn’t feel natural in a light circlet or a golden monstrosity. She forged her ways towards the throne herself, through fire and blood and hardships. A slave of his brother to the conqueror of cities and countries. After she is done with conquering she’ll need something that would remind others that she wasn’t just the petite woman she appeared to be at first glance.

A crown like that will suffice. And her children, of course. She had no intention of parting from any of them. Hopefully, by the time they die, she’ll long be buried somewhere.

Missandei’s voice startled her from her thoughts.

“_Your Grace, Ser Jorah is here to see you.”_

She stepped out of the tub and pulled a robe around herself.

_“Let him in.”_

She already knew what this conversation was going to be about. He must’ve heard that she doesn’t intend to take him to the Wall. It was a hard decision, to leave him behind, but she wanted someone who understood the northern gestures in this court, so she can hear about things that they don’t intend to communicate towards her.

“_Khaleesi, please.”_

_“I won’t change my mind. I need someone they are familiar with that can represent me in Court.”_

He made a face, hand tightening around the handle of his sword where it usually rested, ready to draw blade any moment and protect his queen.

“_They despise me Khaleesi. I don’t believe leaving me here will bring the results you wish to see.”_

_“Maybe, maybe not. But if I’m right, you’ll be of great use here. And I don’t wish to take you to the place that took your father from you, no matter what vows he sworn to the Old Gods and the Realms of Men. He was your father and you’ve suffered enough as it is.”_

She took a sip from her vine before beginning to get into the clothes Missandei had prepared for her.

“_You are going to be close to the enemy! I swore I would be your shield! Forever!”_

She smiled at him.

_“I know. And I love you for it. But these decisions need to be made with a rational head. I need to take Daario, less he becomes bored. You know he is a trouble maker when he’s bored. I don’t want to deal with that too when I get back. The assassin’s offer was unexpected, but appreciated. From a political point of view, she will represent the North in this mission. She is also a Faceless Man. Or Woman. Her information gathering skills are probably unmatched.”_

Jorah paled at the mention of that particular Assassin Guild. His mouth formed a tight line and trembled. He searched for some arguments to make, but found none.

“_Will you be careful?”_

She walked over him, already dressed and ready for her armor and planted a kiss on his cheek.

“_I will always come back, my dear knight. Just like you did. I promise.”_

Just then, Missandei looked inside the tent.

“Your Grace. His Grace is here to see you.”

“Well, let him in then.” She said, getting into her armor with the help of a sour faced Jorah, who didn’t like her decision, but trusted her enough not to fight over this.

When the King came into the tent, she immediately spotted that bounce in his step that he used to have on Dragonstone. It seems the revelation of her magic did good. Probably made the magical threat more real to many lords and ladies.

“How did you like my performance, Your Grace?” She asked with a grin.

“Oh, it was very captivating, Your Grace, dare I say theatrical.”

She laughed and he grinned, seemingly in a good mood for once. Daenerys asked her two friends to give them a few minutes. She gestured towards the cups on the plate and the sweet wine she loved so much. He didn’t refuse. That was a good sign. All the while, Daenerys was getting back into her armor.

“So? What do they think?”

“Well, the Free Folk call you Fire Queen now. They are convinced. The lords almost tackled me with apologies about being skeptic of magic before. They agreed to have the small folk be moved into a safer stronghold.”

“Excellent. Missandei will help you organize their protection. Five thousand riders shall suffice, I think. Maybe seven thousand.”

“Five thousand would be enough. I’ll only send them to White Harbor for now and our lands are mostly peaceful.”

“Do as you wish.”

They remained silent for a while, Daenerys getting into her armor plate by plate, while he was looking at the fire with a contemplating expression. She saw enough men frown like this to know something heavy was on his mind. He gazed into those flames like he wanted to threaten them to surrender the answers he wanted. It was kind of amusing, considering that Daenerys could do that for him, if he just said what the problem was.

“Something on your mind?” She asked, fiddling with the clasps of her capes.

“I want to say something.” He swallowed. Hard. And now that she glanced at him again, she saw him sweating. Just what was this about? “But I don’t know if I should.”

Deciding that this heavy mood might need to easing, she decided on a playful note.

“Wish to know if the Lord of Light, The Red God, R’hllor wants you to do?” She listed the titles with a slight tint of sarcasm. She never missed a change to let the god know, there’s a reason why their alliance is fragile at best, unstable at worst.

He frowned and looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

Sending a half smirk into the fire herself and saw…

“What is that supposed to mean?” The question escaped her before she could stop herself.

She saw a dragon… with the head of wolf…is this a riddle? Wolfdragon, dragonwolf. A silver dragon with a head of a silver wolf… no. White Wolf. With eyes as read as blood. The creature opened its mouth and fire poured out.

“Do you see anything?” He actually looked intrigued. She was flattered by his trust in her visions.

“I see a dragon with a wolf’s head. Silver dragon, white wolf, with red eyes.”

He sucked in a sharp breath, which instantly drew her attention to him. He looked pale, way paler than usual, eyes wide open, mouth forming a soft ‘o’ shape in his surprise. His hands trembled around the cup and he drank all the wine at once. She was beginning to worry about him.

“Your Grace… I need to tell you something. At first I meant to wait with it. Didn’t want you to be distracted while on the Wall, but that vision… I think it means I should just spit it out.” He sighed, deep and heavy, as if he was readying himself for the execution block. He was seriously starting to worry her.

Making her way over to him, she put an armored hand on his.

“Whatever it is, if you need time, take your time. Don’t let a god you don’t follow dictate your steps.”

He shook his head.

“No, he’s right. Something like this must be said. You deserve to know the truth.”

With one last deep breath, he beckoned her close, intending to whisper into her ear. She pulled her hair away and turned her head, morbidly curious about what can shake a man like this who saw the waling Personification of Death itself and didn’t run as far south as possible. But when the words left his lips, every thought inside her head just… stopped.

“What… I… are you sure?”

He nodded, seemingly both impossibly relieved by the burden getting off of his shoulder and tense with mortified anticipation. Her eyes were wide as she looked into his eyes. At his cheeks. At his nose, his mouth, his ears, his hair. Nothing was familiar and everything was. She saw it in his eyes and the curve of his mouth. A softer, darker version of Viserys.

Hands trembling, she discarded her gloves and cradled his face into her hands, still too shocked to say anything, but feeling the emotions rapidly building inside her. Could it be? Could it really be? The son of her big brother… Her nephew… _Her family._

“Who told you this?” Her voice was raspy and tight.

“Bran saw it. He saw them get married.” He was still looking at her like a deer in front of a dragon.

The Raven. The Raven confirmed it. Something tight unknotted itself in her chest and felt her lungs expand like she was back in the sky, free falling. She laughed, but tears flowed from her eyes and the sounds she made were between laughs and sobs. She pulled his face close and planted a firm, deep kiss on his face.

“Dragonwolf… Dragonwolf indeed.” She said and she laughed.

When she pulled away too cradle his face once more, she saw tears glisten in his eyes as well. She smiled so wide her cheeks hurt and pushed their foreheads together. And they laughed, relieved and overwhelmed at the same time. He was smiling too, a smile so wide to the likes of which Daenerys has never seen on his face before.

She pulled him into a hug and he returned. Even through the armor she felt him squeeze so tight like he was clinging onto dear life. After long minutes laughing together, she sat back into her own seat, the need to cool down after a revelation like this finally catching up to her. She wiped her face and he did the same with his, still letting out huge breaths of relief.

“How did the Raven know where to look?” Was the first thing she asked.

“Sam found a Septon’s library. It mentions them getting married.” He took a deep swig of his refilled up.

Despite feeling like her head was between the clouds, she still stopped at this.

“A Septon’s? But he was already married.”

“Apparently, he and… she divorced before the wedding.”

Now this, made her frown. How could something like that be? Was Rhaegar willing to bastardize two of his children for this marriage? Was Princess Ellia? No, that can’t be right. That would be an insult the Dornish would never forgive, let alone forget. Her good sister must’ve known the implications of this, since it would’ve put her and her niece and nephew into serious danger.

“An annulment? But Ellia was healthy, loyal and sound of mind. How could a Septon agree?”

“I don’t know. I have no idea how these things work.” He confessed, still calming himself.

But Daenerys was already worried again.

“It seems we barely found each other and my brother is already making things difficult for us.”

At his raised eyebrow, she elaborated.

“How can I claim you and present you if that would mean that the marriage was cancelled? Bastardizing two healthy children and shaming a perfectly capable woman in the process. No, Dorne would come for your head. Maybe for mine too. They still didn’t get their revenge for Ellia and now turns out my brother basically spat at her name.”

Oh, her thoughts were already running fast. This was just shaping to be a political nightmare. Despite claiming to not be at home in such politics, the King looked ashen again. She stood up, pacing in a not at all queenly way, trying to wrap her head around the implications of this and come up with a way that would protect her nephew yet allow her to present him at the same time. But how could she? Rhaegal ignited a war that torn apart the Kingdoms with his kidnapping of Lyanna.

“Wait, does that mean that the whole war…” It seems Jon Snow, or either, Aegon Targaryen did have some sense for politics, since he figured out all by himself.

“No. Well, not completely. Lady Olenna told me the war was just a matter of time considering my father’s behavior. It was just the spark that lit the wildfire.” She put a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t you dare feel guilty about something you had no control of.”

He nodded absentmindedly, but got lost in his thoughts at the same time. She didn’t fault him for that. It seems the whole thing just got real for him as well, now that someone else knew and accepted it too. Because she accepted it. She trusted the Raven. The sorcerer helped her in so many ways and even gave her the means to see it for herself if she wants to.

She had a nephew.

She had a _nephew._

Another Targaryen! Or a Sand, depending on how the news will take the landing. But names doesn’t matter! He was her blood. The blood of Old Valyria and also the Blood of the First Men by his mother. He had wolf’s blood. Dragon’s blood. Dargons…

So that was why Rhaegal reacted to him like that. Maybe Jon had the destiny to become a rider. Eager to know but not wanting to do something radical, like dragging him to the dragon and testing that theory in that instant, she looked into the flames. But instead of the green and bronze scales, she saw pale ones. Viserion then? No, the color wasn’t exactly right. It was like snow and silver.

Can it be!

“Come with me!” She urged him, excited to see if she was right. There could be another rider. Someone else to soar the sky with! The rest of her loneliness could be swept away!

He did, a little flabbergasted. She led him towards the chest and made sure that no one was watching. She wanted to take them out anyway, since she will take them to the Wall with herself. Wouldn’t leave them behind for anything. It seems like she might only take two with her now.

She kneeled down and pulled him down too by his hand, undoing the clasps and locks. Once the lid was open, he gasped beside her. His face was complete and utter marvel. She even saw a single tear in the corner of his eye. This was it. This was something that tied him to her. The other side of his family.

“Are they…”

“Yes. I was concerned why I didn’t feel the same heat from this one as from the others. But now I know. Take off your glove.” While he did, she picked up the white and silver egg. His hands were trembling something terrible. It reminded her of herself when she first took the black egg of Drogon into her hand. “Here. Take him.”

He did. Once the egg was in his hand, he gasped, holding it as steady as he can, like he was cradling a human baby. He took a few deep breaths, seemingly unable to believe what he was holding. After she let him collect his breath, she asked, eager to know.

“Does it feel warm?”

“It’s… it’s hot. Burning hot.”

He caressed the jewel like scales before casting one last longing gaze at the egg and tried to hand it back to her. She didn’t take it. Instead, she just smiled and pushed it back towards her.

“If a dragon egg is burning to the touch, it means you two are destined to be together. I feel the same from them.” She caressed the other two, pulling them into her lap. “And felt the same from my children when they were in their eggs. That dragon is your destiny, Jon Snow. Welcome to the bloodline of Valyria.”

She never commented on his tears.

She had a family. She had a _family._

***

She put her two eggs into the bag and did the same with his. He was holding onto it like a child, who got sweets for the first time in his life. It warmed her heart to know that he was already so protective of the egg. She knew from experience that the fond feelings will only develop more and more until a true bond is formed.

“You must not show him to anyone, except those who you’d trust with your own life.”

She made sure her warning was heavy and cold, her eyes communicating the importance of this.

“Not even my siblings?” His mood depleted at that a little.

Daenerys felt a smile curl onto her lips.

“I bet your brother already knows. But still, be _very_ careful. Viserys was my brother and he still tried to steel them from me. There’s so precious few of them left in this world. There’s no amount of gold that would be too much for even one.”

He nodded, this time more serious.

“I’ll guard him with my life.”

“You do that, and he will do the same once he grows strong enough.”

“He can… hatch?”

“They will. I-“

“Your Grace, Daarion and Arya are here and ready to go!”

Missandei’s words startled her. She pushed her lip together for a second.

“I’ll be outside in a minute!” She then lowered her voice to a whisper. “I’m not just going to see the condition of the Walls. R’hllor wants a victory so he can have enough power in this plain to help them hatch. I’ve already did everything else that’s needed to be done. Keep the egg in fire and out of sight.”

The King now had a steely understanding in his eyes, as if the last piece of a puzzle just fell into place. He nodded, determined and sure. Daenerys already saw the signs of the dragon in his eyes. She hoped that he will learn to draw strength from his dragon’s blood the same way he draws conviction from his wolf’s blood.

Still smiling and whispering, she said.

“Stay safe nephew. If someone finds out and there is trouble, give this to Missandei and explain the situation. Every one of mine will help you till you have this ring.”

She pulled the silver lance out from under her armor with her ring on it and quickly dropped it into his palm. With one last smile, she bid them goodbye, this time more formal and loud and both of them left the tent.

Daario and Arya grinned at them, eager for this mission, though for different reasons.

“Let us not make the Walkers wait further.”

Viserion and Rhaegal were already in the air, only Drogon waited for them on land, letting out a deep rumble at the sight of the approaching group. He knew that he’ll have passengers again. Last time he had no qualms about Ser Jorah and Daario. He took a sniff at the Stark girl, who had no sign of fear on her face, only excitement. When he was done sniffing her, another rumble erupted from his chest.

“All good. He likes you.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

They grinned at each other. After that, Daenerys helped them into the saddle and showed Arya how to properly fasten herself onto the dragon. She’ll sit between Daario and her on the first flight. The northerners all cheered when their king’s sister was safe in the saddle, grinning at her siblings from far above.

“Both of you are ready?”

“Yes.”

“Good. _All right, my dear. Fly!”_

He did. Many of the people on the ground were forced to retreat even more to give the dragon enough ground to jump, his enormous wings generating twin hurricanes. Arya Stark was laughing the whole time they were ascending and Drogon kept their fast ascension until they’ve disappeared into the clouds, where his siblings were already waiting.

Daenerys turned them towards the Wall and released the iron rods of the saddle.

“We shall be in the air for six or seven hours. After that, they’ll go hunt while we eat.”

“He is so amazing!” The Stark girl was grinning ear to ear, gently caressing Drogon’s hot scales. “I’ve always imagined them to be huge and powerful but this… This is _power_.”

“You should see them in action.” Daario was leaning back a little, as if he was lazing around in a comfortable chair. “They are faster than anything you’ve ever seen. Especially Viserion. He is so agile, I pity any poor soul who’ll sit in his saddle one day.”

She couldn’t help but laugh at the pleased roar Viserion let out right next to them, which startled Arya. It took her only a few seconds to realize what was going on.

“They understand us?”

“They know a compliment when they hear one.” Daenerys supplied with a fond voice. “They just prefer Valyrian.”

Of course, Rhaegal hated when he was left out. He can take Drogon being the only one with a rider because he wasn’t alone in that, but if his other brother gets praised right under his nose at the same time? Well, there’s only so much a dragon’s pride can take. So he took off towards Viserion, trying to provoke a race. The smallest dragon seemingly would’ve been into the challenge, but Drogon put an end to the fun with an annoyed roar.

The two dragons returned to their position on his sides and Daenerys swore they pouted. She loved her children so much.

“How long until we reach the Wall?” Daario seemed to be bored already.

“A day. Two at most.”

“Gods, they are fast! It takes weeks to reach the Wall on foot!” Arya’s amazement seemed to grow by every second. There was an almost audible grin in her voice.

“They are faster than any horse. Not to mention they aren’t bothered by the ups and downs of the land and don’t have to follow the roads.” Daenerys explained, fastening the bag with the eggs to the front of the saddle. “In fact, we’ve crossed the Narrow Sea a few moons ago, just the four of us.”

“Jon told me you’ve been to Essos.”

The question was palpable in the air. It was Daario who spoke.

“There was trouble in Meeren. That damned pirate tried to take the gold from the Pyramids.”

“Possibly to fund Cersei Lannister after I took Highgarden from under their nose.”

A short silence followed her words. While no one spoke, she contemplated on the war she had yet to conclude in the south. She had absolute fate in her armies to take the city, but she also worried for the people. There was always a chance for Cersei deciding to go out with a last blow and ignite the rest of the wildfire under the city. Despite being at war with each other, she’s never met the other woman. No idea about her personality, only what others told her.

After the decimation of the Sept of Baelor, Daenerys was afraid of any other move like the last one. She stole a glance towards the back where the Assassin and the sell sword were deep in a conversation about fighting styles.

She turned ahead and took a deep breath. This might be as good of a chance to practice as any. So she closed her eyes and tried to tug at the warm feeling in her chest she only recently realized was her magic. It came to her easy, if a little sluggish.

The Fire Eye warmed up on her forehead. She concentrated on that feeling and then at the person she wanted to see. She danced around the persona of Cersei Lannister. Gold Haired. Beautiful. Grieving mother of three children. Murderer of countless people. Widow of Robert Baratheon. Daughter of Tywin Lannister. Sister to Tyrion and Jamie Lannister.

She felt the tug of her magic and opened her eyes.

She was standing in a solar. It was richly decorated and embroidered lions hung on the walls. The colors of gold and red dominated the whole place. The walls were otherwise creamy white, the ceilings only a few feet less high than her own solar in Meeren. She was standing by a high window that looked onto a huge city.

_King’s Landing, _she realized.

Turning around, she saw a woman behind a desk. She was dressed in dark grey. Her golden hair short, her green eyes deep and disturbed. Her robe had metal works on it, like an armor. On her head was a small silver circlet.

_Cersei Lannister. Face to face at last._

She walked over to the desk, her armor making no sound, her metal cape lacking the usual scorching sound on the stone. Even her steps were inaudible. Maybe because she wasn’t there, not really. Only her mind was. That’s also why the other woman wasn’t alerted to her presence.

She came to a sudden stop the second she could take a good look at the enemy queen.

She was pregnant.

_She was pregnant._

The shock threw her out of the vision and she opened her real eyes with a gasp on her lips. For a few seconds, her mind worked to get around the information. Cersei Lannister was pregnant. Her enemy was expecting a child. An heir.

“Daenerys! Are you alright?” Judging by the urgency in Daario’s voice, this wasn’t the first time he asked this.

“I’m… Thing’s just got more complicated.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being this late, I'm trying to maneuver around my depression.  
I realize that the revelation scene might be a little anticlimactic, but let's put that on the shock the two of them felt right then. Things will settle down in their heads and then shit's going to get complicated.   
I also don't mind giving Jon a dragon egg, since Dany was given her first eggs too. The little guy will help to center Jon around his Targaryen identity and then he can be a dragonwolf at last.  
I didn't bond him with Rhaegal cause I think that was a cheap move on the series's part. Maybe he'll ride him during the War of Dawn for a while, but Rhaegal is Daenerys's dragon, period.  
You can come and curse at me at the comments if you wish XD


	21. Chapter 21

Daenerys kept to herself for the rest of the journey.

She sat beside the fire while the assassin and the sell sword practiced, face showing no emotion, while she was gazing into the flames through half open eyes. In truth, she was anything but calm. Practically storm in a bottle. But she was careful to keep her emotions away from her face. She wished to figure out things on her own before letting the other two know about her recent discovery.

Cersei Lannister was pregnant.

Funny, how a small detail could kick down every one of her plans. It made her think back to those times when she was the daughter of a defeated monarch, running for her life from the assassins and begging for food on the street, dreaming about a vague home she could have no recollection of. It made her blood freeze in her veins. To think about her own war condemning a child to such fate.

She didn’t change her mind about the Lannister Queen. Cersei will die at the end of the War of Queens. But her child…

In the flames, she saw a rosy cheeked little girl, with endless golden locks and eyes so green as the purest emeralds. The girl was running sunny halls, looking back again and again, smile so bright it could light up the whole world. She was looking back at someone, reaching out with a small hand and Daenerys found herself reaching out towards the flames. She pulled back her hand and clenched it into a fist, lips pressed into a thin line.

A Lannister Princess.

Her throat was tight. She’ll kill this girl’s mother. There was no other option. Cersei Lannister was way past the point of no return and the war was already nearing its last minutes. All of her allies want the Golden Queen’s head and Daenerys will give it to them. She couldn’t help but think about the little girl though. The Sand Snakes already killed one daughter of the Lion Queen, and despite the fact that she expressed her displeasure about that action, she was still unconvinced that they wouldn’t do it again.

Maybe the Queen of Thorns was different, but Daenerys had her doubts about how much sway the Tyrell Matriarch has over her dornish counterparts, if she has any. Or if she would be willing to do anything. After all, Cersei stole her future. In a grieving mind, this alone would be enough justification for committing an atrocity.

A frown pulled her lips. Thinking about it, no one except house Lannister and their loyalist would welcome the poor girl into the world. She’ll be scorned forever for something she had no say in. For something her parent did. And she’ll be alone. She might have her uncles, both despised in their own ways. Daenerys was curious what Tywin Lannister would think now about the legacy of his house. Tyrion said their father was all about legacy and the power of the family.

Now all the Lannisters were mad, cripples, dwarfs and a baby destined to be scorned her entire life.

She stood up from the fire, feeling the flames build up at the tips of her fingers and the center of her chest, right under her dome of starlight. Her movement startled the other two, gathering their attention. Daenerys avoided their curious expression walked over to her sons resting on burned ground. They purred at her approach.

She longed for their warmth. It seems like the world decided that her rule should start on as shaky ground as possible. First, her nephew with the decisions of his father, now a girl with the decisions of her mother. She nuzzled Drogon’s chin and closed her eyes.

Jon Snow. The last male with the blood of the Targaryens. A pleasant warmth coiled around her heart whenever she thought of her nephew. The King in the North. The Lord Commander of the Nights Watch. Pride bubbled in her chest at his accomplishments. He did all that with a bastard’s name. Achieved all those while still so young, without the knowledge of the royal blood running through his veins.

Daenerys wished she didn’t need to leave as soon as she found out. She wanted him to tell her his entire life story. Everything. She wanted to look past the king and meet the man. Meet the family.

She felt a small laugh bubble up in her chest. Up until now she thought her dynasty will die out with her. That she’ll die without and heir and possibly plunge the world back into chaos with her depart once more. No doubt the Seven Kingdoms would trip over themselves for the Throne. No doubt the Free Cities will face so many hardships without her shadow looming over the slavers.

And now she had a possible heir.

She didn’t dare to laugh though. Not even smile. Because this was, as everything else, the Game of the Red God. His ‘gift’. The honey to lure her in.

But what will be the price?

***

Jon Snow was not hiding in his room.

He wasn’t closed off from everyone else, not matter what the rumors said. He didn’t kneel hours before the fireplace, sharpening his blade while the flames licked the egg Daenerys has given him. He wasn’t at all so captivated by the possibility of a dragon hatching that he forgot to eat. And he definitely didn’t wish he could sit there until Daenerys delivered the victory for the Red God and the egg hatched.

All the while, he didn’t think about what this really meant.

Up until now, he didn’t even dare to consider what the implications of his parents identities meant for him. His brain was running circles around the fact that he was the son of Rhaegar, thus he had to confess the Queen the relation between them. He imagined so many reaction from her. But never once did he thought that she’d hug her so close he couldn’t breathe. That she would call him family and smile at him like he hung the moon. Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine her giving him a _dragon egg._

He remembered the tales Maester Luwin used to tell them. Dragon eggs were placed in cribs of the Targaryen children. It was the privilege of the _royal family._ Not even the Targaryen bastards were given such honor. Getting a dragon egg meant that the giver welcomed you into the lines of kings and queens. That they trusted you and loved you and had high hopes towards you. He felt faint just thinking about the implications.

Daenerys was his aunt. That magical, larger than life, goddess of a woman was _related to him._ She was his family. He was her nephew. And she gave him a dragon egg. That meant that she elevated him to the closest thing of an equal she could ever have besides her children and husband. Was he worthy of such an honor? She must’ve thought so.

Jon had hundreds of doubts running through his head, but all of them felt like a distant beehive. Every thought had been outshone by the warmth in his chest. A warmth he hadn’t felt like he came back from the dead.

She was a different kind of family than the Starks. Somehow he always felt like an outsider amongst them, despite the conscious effort of his uncles and his siblings besides Sansa, who shunned him like her mother did. They tried to convince him over and over that he belonged, that he wasn’t a bastard to _them._ But Jon always saw something in their eyes, except in Arya’s, that made all those promises and gestures ring hollow of some sorts. That twinkle of pity. For him, the _poor Bastard of Winterfell._ It always left a bad taste in his mouth, made him glare at the ceiling every night before he managed to fall asleep. Caused him to be a beast in the training yard, wanting to be better, to feel like this acceptance wasn’t handled to him as a gesture of pity. He wanted to compensate.

But Daenerys… with her, there was none of that. She took his face into her hands and after a few glances, she saw her brother in his features. And then she accepted him without a second thought. Her first concern was how to claim him as kin and keep the realm calm while doing that. _Daenerys Targaryen_ was looking for a way to let _everyone_ know they were related.

Never in his life did he feel so accepted. So comfortable in his skin. The woman before him might as well have sworn to have his back no matter what. They were family. Jon stood up and pushed his sword back into its place. They were family. That means whatever Daenerys did, it was reflected on him and whatever _he_ did reflected on _her._

There was no time for brooding and watching the dragon egg. He had a duty to fulfill as a king and for the first time since he left Dragonstone, he _felt_ like he not only _must_ be a king, but he _can_ be a king. He was the blood of Old Valyria_ and_ the First Man, for fucks sake.

He can eat those council meetings for breakfast.

***

The Wall would’ve been the most impressive mad made structure Daenerys has ever seen, if she’d have avoided Old Valyria. Even now, it was proudly standing at second place. She couldn’t find a word in her massive vocabulary to do the sheer size of it justice. And the _magic._ Gods, it was calling to her like the opposite ends of a magnet and there was so _much_. Like a vast ocean stretching out before her.

Finding Castle Black wasn’t hard, her nephew gave a detailed and accurate description. And it was the only manned stronghold on the wall. Despite the small size of their numbers, all of them scrambled into defense. Daenerys bid her two smaller sons to keep circling while she gently urged Drogon towards the ground.

As her son landed right outside the gate, he stretched out his neck and rested his head on the gate, allowing Daenerys to walk up between his scales and stand between his horns. Now she was visible to everyone in the yard and held out her hands, showing that she was unarmed.

“My name is Daenerys Stormborn, ally to Jon Snow, King in the North. He asked for my help against the White Walkers. I wish to speak with Lord Commander Eddison Tollett.”

A man stepped up, only a few years older than Jon. He wasn’t big, but a stern aura lingered around him, telling Daenerys that he was made out of lean and tense muscle, ready to spring like a crossbow.

“I am Commander Edd. Jon Snow is a good friend of mine. An ally of his is welcome at Castle Black, especially when they come to help. Please forgive me the tense welcome Your Grace. I’ve never seen a dragon before.”

Daenerys smiled at him and gently pet Drogon’s horn. The dragon slowly moved a wing over the gate, creating a makeshift road for Daenerys to descend into the yard. She made it down on his wing with sure steps and urged him to go and make the other two passenger’s way from the saddle as smooth as possible. While she made her way down her dragon, Commander Edd did the same on the stairs. The two of them met in the middle.

She could see his surprise at her being so small. In the past, she would’ve found it annoying or use it to her advantage. Now it only amused her. Seeing these big men confronted by all this power in a petite body like hers.

Instead of speaking first, she looked around, making eye contact with everyone. Men of various ages and sizes were looking at her like she was some kind of vision. A figure in dark armor and a cape made of shadows, a crown of thorns upon her head. Compared to their rags and make-do weapons, she could’ve stepped out of a history book.

“King Jon was right. You’ve few men left.”

“Aye, Your Grace. Seventy-six men left in all Castle Black.” His voice sounded grave.

She directed a smile over him as she heard her other two companions join her and Drogon take off towards the sky.

“That’s why I’m here, Lord Commander. Me and my companions came to herald some good news and examine the state of the Wall.” She then addressed the whole crew. “As we speak, twenty thousand of my men are on the way here. They bring food, weapons and war supplies that would last through a three months siege.” Shocked murmurs were audible. The Lord Commander was gaping at her. “Every soldier on these walls will have dragon glass weapons. No one will enter this battle without a chance, as long as I breathe, that I swear to you.” She draw _Remembrance_ and pointed to the sky. “For the Dawn!”

Blades were unsheathed and raised with enthusiasm.

“For the Dawn!”

“For the Dawn!”

“For the Dawn!”

“Well, Queen Daenerys Stormborn.” Whispered Commander Edd with an awed smile. “You just gave us new hope.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being so late. I'm sure I don't have to tell you how everything is going to shit over here. *sigh* Take care of yourselves, for the Night is Dark and Full of Terrors.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea what I'm doing. Quarantine is using my brain as a ping-pong ball.

Standing on top of the Wall was not what she expected.

The winds tore into her larger cloak, making it billow out behind her like a set of dark wings. Her helmet was beside her on a log, rattling in its place. The world stretched out below her feet until the horizon faded into a blur, earth and sky no longer distinguishable in the approaching storm. The sky was dark and rumbling like a tempestuous sea.

_He feels me being closer._

She knew, because she felt him too. His magic was powerful here and stuck to her like mud on the skin. She felt itchy and restless on the border of her enemy’s domain. A scowl was ever present on her face since she came up here. Behind her, right outside the fortress, her children were nestling, The wind swept away their voice, but could not sewer the bond between mother and children. Their power resonated with the one inside her chest, amplifying it over and over again, building a tidal wave she planned to release on the Realm of Night.

“_I am here, King of the Night” _She let her voice rumble with power, valyrian voice scattered into the nothingness under her feet. _“I came to defeat you.”_

She felt him collect strength for their clash. She did the same.

The Fire Eye pulsed a few times on her forehead and with each time it gained color, the light blazed brighter. Daenerys closed her eyes and without uttering a single sound, she was mouthing her titles. Names were power. Proper names gave power. Titles were better. Each title drew strength from different people.

She used herself as a gate. She was not the Champion of R’Hllor, since that wasn’t one of her newly given titles by the Fire God. She had a feeling that was meant to be Jon Snow, who already clashed with the Champion of the Great Other once. She felt it in her bones that her nephew was the One who was Promised. The Shield that guards the Realm of Men.

But she was _Lightbringer_. The sword that was meant to cut the darkness apart and let the day break upon the horizon. Her flame was durable enough allow the power of the Lord of Light to reach out through her and touch the hearts of her people. In exchange, when he retreated, he brought a portion of their flames along and left it in her chest, feeding the inferno in her soul. Feeding her magic.

_Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men._

The people of Westeros had little to offer to her and her patron. They were war torn, tired and hopeless. Only a distinctive few had enough fight in them that they could lend to her cause. Barely a thousand from millions and millions of people. The red priestess did a great service to her cause, converting people under Stannis’ orders. Though Daenerys frowned upon their method of sacrifice, death by simple fire was infinitely slower than dragon fire, she couldn’t allow herself to be picky.

_Breaker of Chains_

This one felt like standing in a sea of cheers every time her lips formed the words. The combined might of Meeren, Astapor, Yunkai and now Volantis was so overwhelming, she almost staggered out of her stance. Hundreds of thousands of people, devoted to her, loving her. Even from afar, their strength rivaled that of the sea.

_“You might have two hundred thousand, but half a million stand behind me”_

_Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea_

Calling out to the Dothraki felt like dropping into a peak of battle frenzy. Their enthusiasm, will to fight and bravery poured into her veins, making them sizzle like molten steel. Whenever she called for them, the urge to grab her blade, mount her son and hunt down her enemy was almost irresistible. But she stood her ground and continued to build her strength.

_Mother of Dragons_

Ironically, her sons were the one who kept her steady. They projected calm through their bond, asking her to still her hand while they were resting and building up their strength in the old fashioned way. She relented for them. And because she knew that despite how mighty she feels in this magical trance, how more and more attuned she becomes with the living souls under her protection, this will break the moment she has to step away.

This wasn’t gearing up for an actual fight, not yet. They were just baring their teeth at each other.

Under her closed eyelids, her eyes were moving, searching the enemy leader. Now was the time for Treaty, on the first day when she arrived. It was pointless of course. None of them would ever relent from their cause. But battle customs, just like titles, had power in magical clashes. The very world around them was a magic on its own and it reacted better to recognized patterns. As if nature itself was bracing for battle.

Then she found him. Weeks away from the Wall, deep into the night, a pair of frost blue eyes turned towards her. And the bond was done. Just like that.

She wasn’t standing on top of the Wall now. Instead of nothingness all around, she was surrounded by ice and snow and corpses. Before her stood a line of White Walkers and somehow she knew without counting that there were ninety-seven of them. And above them stood the figure she will help her nephew defeat. The Night King. The first time they met, Daenerys barely had a chance to take a look at him. Now that she did, she refused the shudder from going down her spine.

“_King of the Night.”_

_“Queen of the Day.” _

_“I’ve come, as accustomed, to Treaty with you.”_

Several of the Walkers snorted before her, the ocean of corpses rattled, as if laughing. Her enemy’s expression didn’t change, but something shifted in his eyes. He took a few steps forward, still on the high ground.

“_You are but Second in Command, Day Queen. You have no authority for this Treaty. Where is the boy? Only he can speak in the name of the living. I wish to treat with him.”_

Daenerys rolled her armored shoulders, her metal cape clinking.

“_You claim that he’s the only one who can speak for us, yet you refuse to call him on his title.”_ She let a smirk tug at her lips. _“Might it be that you’re afraid, Night King? The Prince that was Promised is preparing for your final battle at this moment.”_

Many of his generals snarled at her, but the ancient creature silenced them with a simple gesture. Instead of getting angry by the jab, he slowly began to descend towards her. With every step he took, the biting chill of his presence tore at her skin more. Not to be outdone, she answered with her own magic, ruffling it up like feathers. Their powers collided in the middle and the White Walkers closest to them took a few steps back.

“_I call him what he is. A boy. He has the potential, I saw it. In his eyes, when the last miserable sanctuary of mankind fell on this side of the Wall. A wolf. A Stark pup, no doubt, but almost devoid of magic.”_

He wanted to circle around her with slow steps, but she didn’t allow it. Instead she turned and sank into a rhythm with him. This way there were both predators eyeing each other, instead of her being exposed. She felt her shoulders roll with each step she took, like her son’s did, whenever Drogon advanced on the ground. He on the other hand was completely still, only moving as much as needed. It reminded her of a wolf.

_“A great many things happened since you’ve seen each other. The Lord of Light blessed him with the title of Champion.”_

The Night King shook his head and Daenerys might’ve imagined it, but there was a small smirk in the corner of his mouth.

_”You lie, Day Queen. I felt the Lord of Death’s hand close around his soul. Your god might’ve stole him, but he only had power for one blessing.” _He stopped across his generals, forcing her to show her back to the more dangerous side of his army and leaned closer. _“Do you deny it, Lightbringer?”_

She gritted her teeth but refused to give him the upper hand without a fight.

“_The day is long. He might get that blessing before you have a chance to cross blades.”_

_“Indeed it is. I know you came here to claim a victory. Your god want’s power to bestow one last gift on his pawns before the dice falls. But I am timeless, Day Queen. I can wait another century for you to be dust. For your Prince to be dust.”_

Despite being figured out, Daenerys let out a laugh and grinned at him.

“_Please, be my guest. My children grow each year. They are just as timeless as you. Come at us later, if you wish. Make our work easier.”_

She got him, it was immediately clear by the way his face stilled and his gaze became ever more frozen, if that was possible. They took a step close at the same time, snarling into the other’s face. From up close she saw clearly what the ancient magic did to him. He was really nothing more than a shriveled up human who had ice poured into his veins and a dagger of dragon glass showed in his chest. He was taller than her and tried to loom, but she was long since used to men trying to intimidate her this way, thus glared up at him without so much as a flinch.

Around them, ninety-seven blades of ice were drawn and raised towards the sky in warning. She felt her fire tingle her fingers and in the reflection of his crown, she saw her own eyes blazing like flames.

“_Young you are, sorceress. Young and inexperienced. You’ll be the first to die by blade. I’ll replace that fire on your forehead and make you be the one who brings the night.”_

The threat sent a shiver down her spine, yet she stood her ground.

_“I might be young, but I am mightier than that. Strike me down, you can. But shall you try to bring me back, your reward will be nothing but a pile of ash.”_

This time, his grin was obvious to see.

_“We shall see about that.”_

The connection broke like a mirror, shattering into a thousand pieces. Daenerys drew a large gasp of air, staggering back a little from the edge of the Wall, where her body stood motionless until now, waiting for her spirit to return. She grabbed the closest thing she could hold onto and took several times to banish the chill that took hold of her limbs while she was away. Only when her breath was regulated did she realize that she grabbed a human body.

“Back with us, Your Grace?”

It was Daario. Beside her stood Arya, a concerned frown on her face.

“How long was I…”

“You’ve been up here for about ten hours.” Her former consort said, helping her sit down. “The Lord Commander said that the man he sent to retrieve you couldn’t shake you out of some sort of trance. He panicked and ran to bring us here.”

Behind the two of them stood the Lord Commander, looking relieved beyond measure.

“My apologies. I was collecting strength for the Treaty.”

“Treaty?”

She nodded, trying out her limbs one by one. Slowly she began to feel them again as her magic brought warmth into every inch of her body. Even her armor was beginning to take over the heat radiating from her skin and Daenerys began to feel the comfortable warmth once more, despite still under the pressure of the Night King’s magic.

“Give me a few moments with the Lord Commander, please.”

The two warriors shared a reluctant glance before they left, leaving her with the confused commander who looked like he had no idea what to do or say in her presence. She didn’t stand again, not yet trusting her legs after a magical feat like this. She had to use every drop she managed to collect from her people to maintain the Treaty. Gods know only how much she’ll need for an actual battle.

“The battle is almost upon is, Lord Commander.”

“We’ll be ready, Your Grace. Ready to fight and die, if it comes down to it.”

“So am I. That doesn’t mean there’s no work to be done still. Did you find a guide for me?”

“Aye. His name is Kent. Young lad, had some education. He’ll show you the fortresses.”

“I’m glad to hear that. In that case, we shall fly out after breakfast.”

***

Her room was small and she shared it with Arya Stark. The assassin was already laying on her cot by the time she arrived, playing with a dagger that looked like it was Valyrian steel. The young Stark acknowledged her arrival with a nod and then pretended not to watch as Daenerys stripped a portion of her chest armor to take a look at the wound on her side which was giving her hell for hours now.

“I can redress that, if you want.” Arya offered, once she put some Dothraki healing salve on it.

“If you wouldn’t mind.”

They shared a smile and she raised her arms so the girl could access her middle better. Only a few days ago she’d have been horrified by the thought of showing weakness like this, _asking for help_ like this from someone she barely knew. But since her Skyfall, she just… didn’t care anymore. Her sight was clear thanks to her magic, so she knew if someone approached her with malicious intent. Arya Stark had no such ambitions. Her old self might’ve been horrified of her giving the world a chance to see her anything but capable and independent. Now she just settled for making a difference on the battlefield and if the need ever arises, rub the double standards into any person’s face that dares to call her weak for accepting medical help for a wound that would slow down a man as well.

“It’s healing nicely. And fast.” The assassin commented.

“That’s good news. That means we can spar soon.”

They shared an eager grin and Daenerys patted the bed beside herself. Arya sat down and watched her put the plates back into place, fastening them. Based on her expression only, the assassin was dying to know just what her armor was made of. Amused, she offered her the last plate for examination.

“I’ve never seen metal like this before.”

“Me neither. I’ve found it the ruins of Old Valyria. Along with this.”

She unclasped the crown from her helmet and offered it as well. Anyone else would break out in sputtering and object to the blatant offer. Who’d dare to touch the Queen’s crown outside of her personal circle? But Arya was no usual girl. She took the crown like it was just a piece of metal like any and examined that as well.

“Your brother told me you liked the dragon warriors of my dynasty.” She started.

Arya gave her a raised eyebrow.

“You two talked often?”

“On Dragonstone we often dined together to discuss the process of preparation and the war. After a few cups, many other topics emerged as well. Family, amongst them.”

“Well, he told the truth. When I was young, Visenya Targaryen was my heroine. I always wanted to be a warrior like her. When we played, I always imagined that I was her, riding Vhagar and wielding Dark Sister.”

Daenerys nodded with a fond smile, an idea already forming in her head. She felt her sons nestle not far from them and she could sense Drogon’s and Rhaegal’s eagerness for a flight. Viserion’s bond was silent with only a tinge of content so he was likely sleeping. She took Arya’s hand and stood up.

“Come.”

“It’s the middle of the night.” Said the girl with a frown, but eager curiosity in her eyes.

“So what?” Daenerys laughed. “It isn’t like there’s anything for us to fear outside.” With the same grin she put the last piece of her armor back into place and the crown back onto her helmet.

The two of them sneaked outside the fortress. The two guards that were stationed the gates noticed them, but Daenerys made some quick shushing motions. They must’ve noticed the mischievous twinkle in their eyes, because they shared a grin and opened the smaller gate so they can sneak outside.

“Where are we going?” Arya asked as they were descending down the road.

“I wish to play this game of yours. Luckily for both of us, I’ve brought dragons with me who are eager to stretch their wings.”

This time the assassin stopped stock still, mouth gaping.

“You mean…”

Daenerys grinned at her.

“What? Not up for a ride of your own?”

The assassin’s shell shocked expression turned into a radiant smile. Daenerys wasn’t sure when was the last time she seen someone so happy. The girl was vibrating with excitement by the time they reached the nest. The two awake dragons crawled towards them with eager rumblings and chirps. Daenerys went to Rhaegal first.

_“Hello, my dear. Remember when we went to Smoky Home and you had to carry some people? This is Arya Stark._” She gestured towards the girl, who was standing in a respectful distance. _“She wanted to see a dragon for a really really long time. We are going to fly together. Will you let her sit on you just this once?”_

Her son blinked once, his intelligent gaze turning back to Arya, telling Daenerys once more that they were so much more intelligent than anyone else gave them credit for. The huge green dragon took a tentative step towards the assassin and leaned his head close, sniffing. He withdrew instantly, but not in anger. Arya looked at her questioningly but Daenerys just made a placating gesture.

“_I know her magic smells a little off. But she isn’t evil. Try again, slower this time.”_

Rhaegal did so and this time, he didn’t draw back. Daenerys was so proud of him. A gentle purr erupted from his chest, the most eager consent a dragon can give without actually bonding with someone else. She kissed his scales and turned to Arya.

“This is a one-time thing for now, I’m afraid. They don’t mind passengers but if you mount them too many times, they’d object, thinking that you’ll want a bond with them. But he’s fine with you now. Here, let me help you up.”

She guided the girl’s steps up until she was safely settled at the base of Rhaegal’s neck.

“What do I hold onto?” Arya asked, unused to mounting a dragon without a saddle.

“His spikes. Here. He will take care of you so don’t worry. Just enjoy it.”

“Oh, you can bet I will! This is so amazing!”

“Well, there’s one more thing.” Daenerys winked at her and drew _Remembrance_ from its sheath. “It’s not _Dark Sister_, but it’s a Valyrian steel sword right out of the Valyrian treasuries.”

“You sure?”

“I’ll be fine. Just don’t drop it. It’ll be a pain and a half to find it in the dark.”

Both of them laughed.

“Here, just to be sure.” Arya took the dagger she was playing with before and offered if to her.

She took it with care, examining the blade. It was indeed Valyrian steel. But that wasn’t the biggest surprise. What really shocked her was the handle.

“Is this…”

“Dragon bone, yes.”

“Amazing. What a weapon. Does it have a name?”

“Not that I know of. But it’s Valyrian steel. I’m sure it has a name written down in some book. I was planning on finding it out but this war doesn’t really leave time to anything else.”

“True.”

While they were chatting on Rhaegal’s back, Drogon circled his brother and out of nowhere began to nudge Daenerys down from his brother and towards himself. Arya laughed and so did she. The saddle was starting to become a familiar seat under her, She felt complete when she sat atop his son, where their bond resonated the strongest.

“_Soves.”_

The two dragons took off towards the sky. Even through the wind and distance, she heard Arya whooping and cheering as her fastest son gave her the time of her life. The assassin held out the blade towards the sky in a victorious stance as they reached above the clouds. The moon was shining like a radiant pearl and from above, the carpet of clouds looked like the clearest foam and the most comfortable bed.

“This is the best night of my life!”

Rhaegal roared, proud of himself and thankful for the praise. This only made Arya more excited. They raced for a while, laughing and imitating old battles, making up ridiculous and theatric dialog on the spot. By the time the two dragons were satisfied with the comfortable burn in their muscles and headed towards the ground, Daenerys cheeks hurt from smiling so much. As soon as they were on the ground, Arya ran to her and almost tackled her to the ground with an embrace.

“Thank you so much! This is like a dream come true!”

“It was my pleasure. You are always welcome to join me and my sons. They like you.”

Out of nowhere, the assassin looked at her with eyes so intensive she was sure they were gleaming like the freshly fallen snow. Arya looked her over like she was seeing her for the first time, puzzling her in the process.

“You are different.”

“Different?”

“From the ones before you. You deserve the Throne.”

Despite herself, she couldn’t help an incredulous laugh.

“For giving you a dragon ride?”

“For genuinely caring. For coming to our aid. For being in this frozen wasteland” she gestured towards the barren lands around them. “when you could be in a tent under King’s Landing, waiting for the city to fall. For making a generous deal no one else would’ve suggested.”

Daenerys felt her throat close up and her eyes became misty.

“Arya…”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if my brother choses to bend the knee to you anyway. I’d be proud to call you ‘my queen’.”

“How about.” He throat was dry and her voice tight, so she coughed a little. “How about ‘my friend’?”

This time when the embrace came, she returned it with full force. There were no words to the feelings in her chest. Somehow Arya spoke to the last remnants of her old self. She used to be afraid of not being accepted, of being scorned and unwelcome. But now all of the Starks were truly warming up to her, even Princess Sansa and if they did, maybe the rest of the North will too.

She can do this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, that was cheesy, but I wanted to do it, it was fun and I will not apologize. I hope you had fun anyway. :3


	23. Chapter 23

They had a few hours to sleep before breakfast. As soon as her head hit the pillow, she was out cold. And then her eyes opened again. A familiar sensation was shimmering under her skin, alerting her that she was dreaming. Beside the table sat the Raven. He was watching his sister’s sleeping form with a fond smile on his face. Daenerys let him have that moment while she sat up.

“I knew she’ll come to love you.” He said suddenly and turned towards her. “All of us will.”

“I hope you’re right. You are good people who suffered a lot. I want you to be comfortable asking, if you’re in need of any help.”

He nodded, turning his gaze to her saddle bag. To the two eggs inside.

“You gave him one of them.”

“He felt the dragon’s calling. They were destined to be together.”

“Not at first. The Red God wanted another mount for him.”

Daenerys felt her eyebrows rise in surprise.

“Really? Which one?”

“Your ‘second’ son.”

He said that with a particular tone. She knew immediately who he meant. Rhaegal. Though the first three were born at the same time, she and Missandei often joked about their behavior. Drogon was always like a first born, determined and strong willed. Rhaegal was like a second born, competitive and yearning to prove himself. Viserion was like a third son, gentle and carefree, more interested in the beauty around him than the heat of battle.

“Rhaegal? Really?”

Well, there would’ve been a strange kind of poetic beauty in that. Her nephew bonding with a dragon named after his father. Though, from what he had heard from Ser Barristan, Viserion resembled him more in personality.

Despite her accepting him as her nephew, a strange ache grabbed her chest for a moment. A second rider would’ve been extremely valuable in the battle, but she couldn’t help the possessive fire that flared up inside her. Rhaegal was _her son._ He came to the world to _her calling_. It wasn’t anywhere near the same as giving the King an egg to hatch on his own.

Alas, it seems the Fire God keeps finding reasons to annoy her. She sighed. Why is it that the two of them must clash over and over again? R’Hllor, despite his usefulness, was a thorn in her side.

“He visited your son in his dreams. Three times. Rhaegal rejected him thrice.”

It would be hard to squish the overwhelming motherly pride. She didn’t even want to. That’s her boy.

“I see. Thank you for telling me.”

He inclined his head. The next time they broke the silence, it was Daenerys who spoke.

“Cersei Lannister is pregnant.”

“I am aware.”

“I don’t want the babe to be hurt. I don’t want dead babies to be my legacy. Could you please ask Missandei to write to Tyrion? Let him and every one of my allies know that I want that baby _alive_ and_ unharmed_ or there will be _consequences._”

“I’ll tell her in the morning. Have you seen the progression of the siege?”

“Haven’t had time to properly check.”

“Then let’s do it together.”

She reached out without a second thought, curious about the siege. He intertwined their fingers. Shared magic flared up and it took a few seconds to properly resonate. Reaching out through space was easy after that.

_The next second they were standing in the middle of a war tent. Lord Tyrion was sitting by the table alongside Lord Varys. The two politicians were talking in hushed tones. Daenerys walked over to the table where papers were scattered. Notes. About the wildfire caskets. How much was already shipped towards the North, how many were still under the city and how many were under the process of being refilled with water. About the citizens they already saved and about the amount still inside. _

_“This whole things keep me on the edge.” Her Hand said, gulping down even more wine._

_“It’s almost done. Two weeks at most and the city is ours.” Lord Varys was trying to placate his friend._

_“A lot of things can happen in two weeks. Cersei proved that she can snap in a moment. I dread to think what she might do during those weeks.”_

_“There aren’t a lot of things she can do. She is without allies and without money. Soon, she’ll be without soldiers and hostages as well.”_

_“That’s exactly my point. She is dangerous and cornered. Every night I dream that she finally loses it and ignites those caskets in one last act of spite.”_

_“She is pregnant. Her only good trait is caring for her children.”_

_“Yes, that and her cheekbones.”_

_For a few moments, neither men spoke. Daenerys was surprised that they knew about the Lion Queen’s pregnancy. Did they know even before they separated? Or did they come by this information recently? That would make sense. Just like she went to treaty with the Night King, her advisors would treaty with the Lannister Queen as well. The swell of her belly was impossible to miss. _

_“Have you sent the letter yet?” Lord Tyrion suddenly asked._

_“Yesterday.”_

_“Do you think it will reach her before the city falls?” The anxiety was clear in her Hand’s expression._

_Lord Varys thinned his lips into a pale line and said nothing. Ah, so that was the case. They were worried Daenerys couldn’t decide the baby’s fate before the Martells and the Tyrells get their hands on the enemy Queen. A reasonable fear. _

_She knocked a few times on the table, wishing she was able to tell them that she already knew. _

_“Maybe your brother already knew and told her?” The Spymaster suggested._

_“You think my brother would confess to incest to the woman whose father he murdered?” Lord Tyrion’s scoff was clear to see, but so was the faint hope in his eyes._

_“We both know how she feels about her father.”_

_“I know, but still.”_

_“I believe your brother would do anything to prolong Queen Cersei’s life with a few days. I don’t doubt he’d get on his knees in front of her so Queen Daenerys would allow her to live at least until she delivers.”_

_Lord Tyrion sent a sad smile towards the flames._

_“Yes. He’d do that. Maybe you’re right. Maybe the raven is already on its way. I’m sure the Queen wrote to us as soon as she found out. She is good like that.”_

_Daenerys felt an involuntary smile stretch on her face when Lord Varys began to nod in agreement. They really believed in her. Knew her enough to know that she’d never allow children to be hurt, not even if they were the heirs of her enemies. Despite knowing that it would do nothing, she crouched down before them and put each of her hands on theirs._

_“Thank you.” She whispered._

_To her utter surprise, both men looked up and at each other at the same time. Lord Tyrion’s eyes were wide with wonder, while Lord Varys was more disbelieving._

_“Did you hear… do you _feel_ that?” Her Hand asked, looking at his own hand._

_“You as well?” Lord Varys asked, now looking more lost than anything._

_Daenerys turned back to the Raven with an inquiring expression. “Can they sense me here?”_

_“I believe they can. You are exceptionally powerful.”_

_Excitement bubbling up in her chest, she grabbed the chance to reassure her worrying Hand. Hearing him talk about his nightmares woke pity in her heart. She put the pressure of war on him when she named him second in command and now she knew that it was a burden he didn’t need. So she stood up, stepped to his side and whispered into his ear._

_“I know. It’ll be fine. The girl will live.”_

_The small Lannister almost jumped out of his chair. Looking around for a figure he couldn’t possibly see. Yet she knew he had heard her when he whispered her name. _

_“Daenerys?” There was so much hope and wonder in his voice like he was speaking to a god he’s been worshipping in his whole life._

_Smiling, she planted a kiss on his cheek. _

_“I’m here.”_

_It was hard not to be touched when he became misty eyed and began to laugh with hope and relief. Even Lord Varys was looking around in reverence instead of being baffled by his friend’s outburst. The two men looked at each other one more time before Lord Tyrion poured another cup for himself._

_“Either I’m going crazy, or we’re going to be fine.”_

_“You just… what just happened?”_

_“Does it matter, old friend? Would you support her less if her spirit really crossed the world to reassure us?”_

_“This is insanity.”_

_“It might be.” He drank deep into his cup. “If she can really come to us, I’m willing to go insane.”_

_While Lord Tyrion said that, he missed the pinch of his friends face. But Daenerys didn’t. She suddenly felt bad for making the Spymaster go through this experience. It’s not like she didn’t know about his aversion of magic. In her wish to reassure him, it seems she managed to achieve the opposite. Will he stay and support a Sorceress? Maybe not. If he wishes to leave, she can let him go. _

_Or maybe he’ll come to the conclusion that a Sorceress shouldn’t sit on the Iron Throne._

_Could that be? It was possible. Lord Varys was a person whose loyalty was a very fickle thing. He claimed to serve the people of the realm but that does not exclude selfishness. In his fear he might discard her, rush to serve and put another in the Iron Throne. Her nephew maybe? Or one of the Great Lords. _

_‘I wish to believe in you, Lord Varys, but your face bids me to caution.’_

She sighed and left the vision. The Raven joined her in the small room soon enough, watched in silence as she rubbed her forehead, eyes locked in a thousand yard stare, thinking about what to do with her Court. She knew how dangerous it was to keep someone whose loyalty isn’t sure in her close circle. The logical choice would be to gently get rid of him, maybe give his position to someone else. But is it fair to punish someone for a crime they’ve not yet committed?

_‘How can I be proactive while I seem reactive?’_

It seems that will be one of the greatest questions she’ll have to ask herself, over and over again.

“I created a mess I didn’t need.” She said with a small, sad smile.

“He cannot serve the Lightbringer if he denies the very foundation of your being. You’ll just have to be prepared that he might not be easily removed from position.”

Even the thought had left a bad taste in her mouth.

“He helped me reached my goals.”

“So you owe him to fail in order to spare his life?”

“I owe him doing my best to make sure it doesn’t have to come to that. This is my doing, I just showed him my power.”

“The time might not be optional, but it was inevitable. You are so much more than a Queen, Daenerys. You were destined for greatness. You cannot hold back for one person. A realm as broken as ours needs all of Daenerys Stormborn to recover, not just her human part.”

His voice was monotone as he spoke, face stoic. He was always like this, even when he was smiling. What a great price to pay for such mighty powers as his. The Three Eyed Raven’s only human part was his eyes. His eyes were the only place where Bran Stark can still shine through and now that little boy way smiling encouragingly.

Yet she couldn’t help but worry.

“_’Every time a new Targaryen is born the gods toss the coin in the air and the world holds its breath to see how it will land._’ The saying goes I think. We are either destined for greatness or madness.”

He closed his eyes and barely noticeably shook his head.

“It’s a greatly over exaggerated and over used saying. No great mind has ever existed without a touch of madness. It takes madness to walk into a funeral pyre and bring dragons into the world. It takes madness to uproot two continents in the belief of making things right. It takes madness to jump off from a back of a dragon.”

She smiled at the memory, her expression a fragile little thing. The Raven went on.

“People claim madness when the other’s vision is too great to comprehend. Don’t let them discourage you. You wish to build a world that is incomprehensible for them right now. Even if you explain, they cannot imagine the beauty. It takes madness to deliver us there.”

“They do more than discourage. They destroy what they cannot comprehend.”

“You are not a naive girl anymore. Perhaps some part of you never was. You have seen and experienced their worst. You know how to spot the dagger.”

“So I should be paranoid?”

He smiled again, with his whole face. It was a disturbing sight that she came to appreciate anyway because she felt that this was the closest he can come to a real smile.

“Cautious.”

Cautious. Right, she can do that. She’s been doing that for as long as she can remember. That was something that came as easy as breathing nowadays. Her nose was tuned to the fine smell and hue of poison, her eyes learned to spot the nervousness of an eye that seeks to claim life. Only two types of people can look into the eyes of their target. Those who hate them with passion and the truly vile.

‘_Well, Arya, it seems I was right. I’d make more use of a third eye than lessons in the dark.’_

***

Daenerys knew before she walked inside that this breakfast is going to be a stumbling affair. She didn’t even know what the custom in the Night’s Watch was. Should she politely refuse the chair beside the Lord Commander or should she accept it? In honesty she was fine with sitting at any table and eating whatever they ate. So she opted to use the only thing that could diffuse tense moods.

She tried humor. When they scrambled to stand as she walked into the hall, she was quick to bid them to sit again.

“Good morning everyone! Sit, don’t mind me. This cold weather gave me an appetite of a dragon and I’m sure I’m not the only one. Go ahead and dig in, I’ll seat myself.”

It was clear that they’ve never seen a ruler like her before, because all she got was dumbstruck expressions. Good enough. She took a plate with some meat and sad looking vegetables along with a slide of bread and sunk into the chair at the high table that was left vacant by the officers, not minding propriety as she used her ungloved hands.

Before any of them could speak, she already had a mouthful. Daario gave her a radiant smile as he walked over to her, lingering behind her chair.

“Good morning! You look as hungry as I feel.” And he tried to steal some bacon from her plate.

She swatted his hand away.

“Get your own.”

Someone chuckled. It was a short lived thing, its owner clearly mortified by what he had done so Daenerys made sure to look like she didn’t notice. It was easier, since Arya walked inside just in that moment. Her bed was already cold when Daenerys awoke and now her expression was somewhere between resigned and satisfied.

“Good morning, Arya.”

“Good morning, Daenerys.”

“Good morning, Lady Assassin!”

“Oh, go and howl at the moon.” The girl met Daario’s stupid grin with an unimpressed gaze.

That idiot made a mock howl as he went to get his own breakfast alongside her. Their easy commotion finally managed to dissolve the mood somewhat and by the time the two of them were seated, everyone went back to their own discussions, settling with occasional glances at the high table.

“Lord Commander, I hope your man is ready. Kent, I believe his name was?”

“Aye that he is.” He nodded, looking up. “Kent! Come over here!”

He was a young and frail looking lad. His ears were poking out from between half long brown hair. The young man, a boy really, was wearing the same type of rags all of his brothers did, but it was clear he tried to keep them as clean as possible. Or he just went an extra mile to clean them since he was to accompany a Dragon Rider. Poor sod.

“Your Grace!” It was clear he didn’t know if he should bow, bend the knee or do neither. The Night’s Watch was neutral in politics, but she imagined the rules depended on whichever ruler felt like visiting.

“Nice to meet you Kent. The Lord Commander says you can show me the castles.”

“Aye, Your Grace.”

“Excellent. Prepare to be away for a few days tops.”

“At once, Your Grace!”

“But finish your breakfast before you run off. We don’t know what we might find in the strongholds, you might need all of your power.”

“Thank you, Your Grace!”

And that was that.

***

Since the saddle was made for only three people, Arya got to travel with Rhaegal again. Her son grew fond of the girl, not willing to bond as a dragon and rider, but more than happy with her company. He was the one leading and she was the passenger. Obviously, Arya had no objection.

Poor Kent was a little fidgety at first around Drogon. The black dragon looked unimpressed with the lad, but didn’t shrug him off once Daenerys explained to him why the boy was necessary. So they set out to look around the castles.

They were practically the same. The strongholds were only occupied by shadows in the past decades, even centuries. In many case the elevators were far from functional, the chains became rusty and dangerous. Some of them were raided by Free Folk who climbed the wall, others were in no condition to be properly manned in such short a time.

Daenerys walked the ghostly halls with a soft frown, one hand on her sword. Daario was trailing behind her silently every time. When the night came, she made her bed beside Drogon, who put his head to rest right next to her. She used that time to use the Fire Eye and look around, beyond the Wall and in other strongholds.

Everything was abandoned and quiet.

On the first night she talked again with the Raven. This time she was the one who went to him, finding her soundless steps walking the corridors of Winterfell. The Raven waited for her with Missandei, Ser Jorah, Grey Worm and Qhono at his side, all of them sitting in silence beside the fire.

So he knew she’ll come to him.

“She is here.” He said in his usual monotone voice.

Her loyal friends gasped and looked around, their gazes sweeping past her, unable to tune into her magic. She smiled at them none the less and then at the Raven, greeting him with an incline of her head. He returned the gesture. Her allies followed his gaze to her general direction, but they were still unable to pinpoint her location.

“Have you sent the letter?”

“She’s asking about the letter.”

“Yes, Your Grace.” Missandei said instantly, without a shadow of a doubt in her eyes. “I’ve addressed it to the whole Council, letting them know that you wish the babe to live at any cost and should anyone cause it harm, they shall be punished excessively.”

She nodded and the Raven passed on her gratitude towards her friend.

“How does the Court fare in my absence, Ser Jorah?”

The northern sorcerer turned his gaze to the knight, repeating the question.

“Good, Khaleesi. The lords and ladies have warmed up to our soldiers. His Grace organized five thousand of our troops to escort everyone who cannot fight to White Harbor. Our men will divide and sweep through the land to make sure no one is left behind and then shepherd everyone south.”

She nodded, pleased.

“We shall make sure that House Manderly has enough food to feed them. We need to write to Lady Olenna.”

“She wishes for you to write to the Lady of Highgarden to make sure the refugees have enough food.”

“The King already did, Your Grace.” Missandei said with a smile. “He wrote to Lady Olenna yesterday, after we gave our blessing in your name.”

This pleased her even more. So her nephew took up the mantle and began to organize things as a king should. She felt a sense of pride bubble up in her chest at this. Dragonwolf indeed.

“What about the troops sent to the Wall?”

The Raven surprised everyone by speaking in Dothraki to Qhono.

“_They headed out the same morning you left Khaleesi. The Raven says they are fast. They will arrive soon.”_

So the Dothraki took to call Bran Stark ‘The Raven’ as well. Not really surprising. Since she was Khal to Unite All Khalasars, they didn’t as much as blink at the idea of magic anymore. She had to clarify to them that magic isn’t common across the great salt water, they are just happening to meet those who can use it.

“And what about the rest of the army?”

“_Exercising and working, My Queen.” _Grey Worm said in valyrian. “_Everyone is learning to work together and learn to execute specific formations and commands on order. The King decided to use short and long horn signals to command the Great Army in case the storm drowns out the voice.”_

She was more and more proud of her nephew. It might be the fact that fighting was his element, but she liked to think that he drew some of this newfound strength from his valyrian heritage and the dragon egg she gave to him.

After that, she said goodbye to them, opting to take a look at the aforementioned King.

She found him in his chambers, sitting beside the fire that warmed the silver egg. She almost staggered a little as soon as she showed up beside him. Never before did she examine him with the Fire Eye. Now she knew why it was unclear to Melisandre which one of them was Azor Ahai. King Jon was practically shimmering with magic. His powers were raw. Untapped and untrained, yet still easily matching her own, except in nature.

His dual heritage gave him dual nature as well. Fire and Ice engaged in a miraculous dance under his skin. Once the Lord of Life finally has enough power to bless him with the title of Champion, he’ll be a Sorcerer King like no other.

_“Azor Ahai.”_

If there lingered any doubt about him in her mind, it was blown away with the power of a hurricane. He was the Prince that Was Promised. The Shield Who guards the Realm of Men. She felt herself being drawn to him.

_You belong together with him, Lightbringer. The Son of Ice and Fire and Valyria Reborn. You two are destined to shape the new world._

Names are power.

‘The Son of Ice and Fire’. What a fitting title. She’ll make sure to let him know.

‘Valyria Reborn’. She’ll wear it with pride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Army Inspection chapters are boring >.> Sorry.  
But at least we got a glance at what makes magic sensitives so weak int he knees at the sight of Jon. Deanerys's Court takes to magic like a champ and Jon is beginning to make ruling his bitch~  
Also, Arya and Rhaegal are now besties. What a shock XD


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! *ducks bricks*  
It's alright. We can talk after the chapter.

Daenerys did not sleep.

She hasn’t slept for a whole week now. During the day, she did her tasks and assigned new ones for her followers. The Wall has been properly scouted. Along with Arya and Daario, she made plans for every castle so they can send out the soldiers as soon as they arrive at Castle Black. She trained with them to fight and with her dragons to fly. Sometimes she wasn’t alone.

Rhaegal loved Arya Stark. Dragon and assassin took to each other like fish and water. They did not bond. They didn’t even try. They just enjoyed themselves. Rhaegal has showed the sky above the clouds for the girl, in turn Arya guided her son through the lands of the North. Daenerys was happy for their friendship. Her children needed more people to accept them as intelligent and sociable beings.

And while the wolf played with the dragon, the dragon was stalked by a wolf.

She almost didn’t notice it first. In the eternal while lands of the North no movement was visible. She did not see it (_Him,_ something whispered in her mind) and did not hear the steps. But her magic sensed _his_ in proximity. He was the calm embrace of the frost and ice. Lurking in the light, evading her in plain sight.

Until one night he came to her.

She was in the yard, practicing. It was the middle of the night, but she had to clear his head. The Raven and her just stepped out of a vision about King’s Landing. The city can fall any day now. Daenery’s order has reached her subjects. Unknowing to them, she was there when they reluctantly swore to obey the command about Cersei Lannister. They did not know she examined their faces carefully.

That is why she was out there, blowing off steam.

“_Cersei might be a cunt, but there’s a child involved! How can they blame a babe for her mother’s sin? Are they lying to my face when they say my father’s identity doesn’t matter? Are they waiting for me to snap so they can hate me as well? Are they hating me already?”_

As she was assaulting the training dummy with her sword, snow began to fall. She stopped, exhaling a few times and raised her heated face towards the sky, enjoying the snowdrops melting on her skin. Snow. What was her nephew doing now? She often checked on him. Watched him rule. It was only for a few minutes every once in a while, when she was high up in the sky with Drogon. She slipped from her body and went into the northern hall where he was either holding court or talked with advisors and subordinates. He gave orders like a true dragon and carried himself with the silent deadliness of a wolf. The room stilled every time he spoke, people hanging on his words. They obeyed his commands with respect in their eyes. Daenerys, just like Ser Davos and Princess Sansa, watched him with a proud smile.

She startled at the sound of steps approaching. Not human steps.

Turning carefully, she laid eyes on the most magnificent creature she has ever seen since her children. A wolf. _A direwolf._ White as snow, eyes gleaming blood red. He was taller than her, as big as a war horse. His head was raised high when their eyes connected. Then, slowly, he began to lower himself while pulling back on his front legs. Daenerys, shaken out of her reverence, felt the magic tug at her and understood the gesture.

She bowed as well.

A creature of fire meeting a creature of ice. Once they were standing tall again, she put her sword away to show that she meant no harm. The wolf watched her calmly. He did not blink once since their eyes connected. She knew who this was. Ghost. Jon has spoken about him while they were staying at Dragonstone when she tried to explain her connection to her sons to him. He knew what she meant because he had the same connection with this direwolf.

Ghost, true to his name, left without a sound after the meeting. The abandoned fortress seemed even more abandoned now, that he was gone. Daenerys sighed and look at the old training dummy.

“I wonder what Jon is doing.”

She knew that her nephew whipped Winterfell into the best shape possible. He arranged for anyone, who might be a liability in the war to go south and made plans that exceeded her own imagination. He was really getting into the hang of it. A dragon protecting his own and a wolf leading his pack at the same time.

He is coming to her now, she knew.

He will arrive in one week’s time with another, smaller army made out of northerners and soldiers of the Golden Company. He left his Hand and Princess Sansa in charge of Winterfell to cooperate with Missandei, Grey Worm and Ser Jorah in keeping the castle ready for siege. So far, the five of them excelled in collaboration.

The Princess and her dear friend took to each other like fish to water. They smoothened out budding conflicts in a way only a woman can with gentle understanding and motherly stern behavior. Lords and Generals respected both of them, bowing their heads as they passed by. Though the castle staff was reduced to bare minimum, the Wolf Princess worked miracles keeping everything organized and smooth.

One of the Truest Lady Daenerys has ever seen.

Missandei’s words were law amongst the armies, second only to the King and Queen themselves. She organized hunting parties, keeping fresh meet incoming while also reducing the wild life the Night King could possibly use against them. Everything bigger than a squirrel was either hunted down for fur, or chased south of Winterfell until the war was over and they can relocate them back into the woods beside the castle.

Ser Davos along with Grey Worm and Harry Stickland organized scout missions and army exercises. They tried out formations, signaling and everything else an army needed to be the best prepared. The Northern lords still talked more to the King’s Hand than to the southern Generals, but as far as Daenerys had the time to watch, they were beginning to skip the middle man more and more.

She also heard what they were whispering about her.

“_Sorceress.”_

_“Magic made flesh.”_

_“Fire made flesh.”_

_“The True Daughter of Valyria.”_

She was touched by the change that occurred. She was less associated with her father now and more with her greater ancestors. Aegon and his sisters. Some thought that she was their second coming in a single body. Some went so far to suggest that she was the truest dragon rider since the Doom. After all, there have been plenty of instances of Targaryens burning to death. None of them had the gift of walking through fire, to command not one but three dragons, let alone bring them back to life from stone. The Free Folk were certainly fanning the flames.

They revered both her and her nephew as some kind of godly figures.

King Crow, the Resurrected and The Ice-kissed Dragon Queen. She got that name from Tormund, who was insisted that just as he and Sansa were kissed by Fire, Daenerys was kissed by Ice.

She sighed, wishing that she could be there, instead of so close to the Night’s Domain. She wanted to be there with Missandei and Sansa beside the fire when they were talking. They talked about Arya and her, their sisters, sharing countless stories just like she was sharing stories with Arya.

Daenerys sighed, a wishful sound.

Sometimes she felt that this would be her longest war yet. Sometimes it seemed she’ll never know anything else. Never feel warm breeze or see rain or vibrant green grass. She’ll be here in the ice and snow for the rest of her life. Almost alone with withered men who had the glassy stares of a ghost.

She wondered if her eyes will turn glassy as well.

***

They were two days from the Wall. When he set out, Bran told him that Daenerys knew he was coming. Apparently, his aunt had a similar power to her brother and sometimes she walked the halls of Winterfell as a ghost, seeking comfort from the frozen lands. That was what ultimately cemented his decision to go.

He wanted to be with her. To plan with her and fight beside her and keep her safe. She was family. A new family. A side of him that he could never learn from anyone else. A true dragon to guide him through the lingering remnants of confusion.

With every passing night he spent by the fireplace, he felt his dragon blood bubble to the surface. He felt restless and full of energy. Passion that was part of his core yet had to be pushed down around Lady Catelyn. A habit that became so strong that even at the Night’s Watch he was reluctant to live it to the fullest. It sometimes resurfaced. With Ygritte. In the heat of the battle. A fire that has never been truly stroked before.

Now he felt it. The drive that urged him out of sleep every morning, that gave the determination into his step. His wolf blood tempered it some, but that only made him more dangerous. He had the relentlessness and patience of a wolf, but the ferocity and passion of a dragon.

The people around him sensed it.

They didn’t know what it was just yet, but Jon noticed how they stood up straighter every time he addressed them. Watched them squirm as he gave orders and pass judgment. No one challenged him publicly anymore. They came to his solar and spoke their concerns with careful words and respectful tone. And if they were displeased by his decisions, they kept silent about it.

_“The White Wolf.”_ They whispered. _“Wolf King. Our King.”_

They took pride in him being their leader and Jon was proud of it as well. His father was Rhaegar, true, but his mother was Lyanna Stark, a true daughter of the North. He had just as much wolf’s blood as any of his cousins did.

And half as much dragon’s blood as his aunt.

He wished to see her so much. To ask the questions that had been keeping him up. He didn’t know how to be a dragon. When Sam first told him who he was, he didn’t think what it meant for him, only what it meant for _them_, for him and Daenerys. Feared her reaction almost as much as he feared the dead. But his aunt welcomed with kisses and smiles, took him into the family, _gave him a dragon egg._

_“My family. She is my family. Mine.”_

Jon longed to be in her presence. To learn, to be guided into the person he could be at his full potential. He knew she would help him. And he wanted to help her. Every time they dined together on Dragonstone and the topic of family came up, she looked so aggrieved and wistful. He’ll be her family. He’ll have her back like no one else, fight beside her till his last breath, share her every burden.

The Last two Dragons. They belonged side by side.

***

The soldiers had arrived. They came in two waves. One of them were her Dothraki riders along with two hundred carts worth of food. All of them came on horseback in case a quick retreat was needed. They will mostly man the wall however. She would be a fool to meet the Night King on an open field. The Wall was the greatest advantage mankind has created against these creatures.

She let the soldiers rest before they set out. She knew her nephew was coming. She stood beside The Raven when he set out with the small second force, watched him go and come towards her. It made her heart swell with affection. He’s coming to her. Her nephew. He’s coming to fight alongside her. Like family should. She’ll keep the Dothraki at Castle Black until he arrives and the rest of the forces can be divided.

Her bloodriders made camps outside on the barren lands. The Night’s Watch was eyeing them suspiciously for a while, but they did not look a gift horse on the mouth. She talked with the assigned group leaders to let them know which castle they will go to and how will they get there. She also saw the food being portioned up so there would be no trouble about that later.

As days passed, she occupied herself with training.

She trained with Daario. They danced around each other, clashed like two arena fighters. Dirty and unpredictable, both of them gave as good as they got. Everything was fair play. Everything that kept you alive and fighting was a good move.

She trained with Arya. The girl taught her so much. The first steps of the water dance, the rules of an assassin. What to pay attention to, how to measure up a room, how to keep herself on her toes in every minute. Once her wound was mostly healed, they climbed as well. Ran around castle black like children, but with swords. Jumped over fences and ran upon roofs. She learned how to conquer obstacles that could stand in her way, either in chase or flight.

She also trained with the watchmen. Fought against multiple enemies at once, practicing what will happen, should she be overwhelmed. They took turns. Usually around twenty of them fought. They broke to two groups, differing in numbers every time. Sometimes one against many. Sometimes she was alone, sometimes she was one of the many. Everyone got a chance to try, to improve.

The Dothraki taught her how to fight from the saddle. How to shoot from horse. She listened to every advice and translated that into dragon riding. From upon Drogon, it was almost impossible to hit a target, but she was practicing. Not giving up. She was getting better.

And of course, her magic. It was the hardest thing to get used to. Like she was using a limb she always had but had been paralyzed before. Fire came on command, but the amount was way off. She practiced alone and away from people and forests. She was getting a hang of it, but it was still either too few or too much. At least, if push came to shove, she could manage a field of fire on her own.

While she was resting, she walked the Realm. Watched the last struggling breaths of King’s Landing. Still holding out under the siege, but barely. Saw Cersei get more and more agitated with every day. The Lion Queen had plans. Most of them were centered around the wildfire that was no longer under the city. The last of the caskets safely removed days ago. She also planned to escape in the chaos, should it come to that. Daenerys knew she won’t succeed. Lord Varys kept a close watch on every possible little tunnel that lead out of the city. Despite him being shaken by the magical experience, he remained loyal. She felt bad for doubting him.

Then, finally the day had come.

She was scouting the skies as usual when she saw them. Then she heard the horn. She urged Drogon to descend towards the approaching men. There wasn’t too many of them, about a two thousand at most. They all came on horseback as well. When Daenerys approached, she saw the one leading them.

She felt him before she saw him. Her nephew. His magic reaching out to hers on instinct.

As Drogon slowly flew over the soldiers, they greeted her with a cheer. She managed to survey most of them. Northern banners, free folk and bits of the Golden Company as well. Once she saw the end of the line, she turned around and after a sharp circle and accompanied them until they have reached the Wall.

By the time she dismounted Drogon her nephew already greeted the Lord Commander. They had genuine smiles on their faces which made her heart swell for them. They noticed her soon enough and the secret Targaryen gave her a radiant smile as well.

“Queen in the South.”

“King in the North. Welcome in our circles, Your Grace. I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Aye, my brother told me. I suppose by know you know better how things are in Winterfell.”

“They are faring much better than we hoped. I could give some details. I’d also like to hear about your plan. I saw bits and pieces and you had me curious. I’m sure the Lord Commander can lend us his solar.”

“Aye, this way.”

Daenerys hooked her arm into Jon’s offered one. He seemed to be uncomfortable. He hid it well, but Daenerys saw how his eyes searched for every corner. She couldn’t imagine how many memories resurfaced here. He told her many stories about his life. How he was treated here before he managed to integrate into the watch, how people looked at him after he came back from the wildlings, let alone after he let them through the Wall.

She gripped his arm a little more tightly. Reassuring.

_“My family. My nephew. Mine._”

Commander Edd left them right after he made sure that they had everything they could need. As soon as he was out the door, Jon blocked the window. She knew what he was hiding in his satchel by the way he tried not to cling to it too desperately. Soon enough, the silver dragon egg emerged from under the leather, bundled up in fur.

“I tried to keep it warm on the way, but there was no way to put him into fire.”

He seemed sheepish, but happy. Eager.

“I’m sure he didn’t mind. He is connected to you. Even as a babe, he knows why you’re doing this.”

Her nephew seemed relieved. He went over to the fireplace anyway and put logs in a specific shape. Once upon a time Daenerys built something similar in her Dothraki tent for her own children. As he finished and began to fumble around for flint, she stopped him with a hand on his shoulder and with a smile.

She took off her glove, eased her hand onto the surface of the logs and summoned her magic. It was not enough to make a flame, but her fingers glowed like molten steel and their heat was none less scorching. She held the log until the fire started and then let her fingers cool down.

“How do you keep amazing me every time?” He said with a grin.

“Let that remain a secret.” She caressed his cheek with her now only warm fingers. “How are you?”

“I am fine. Better than I ever was since…”

He stopped himself. Daenerys did not push. He sometimes did that. Almost said something and then bit his lip in the last possible minute. It was obvious something horrible has happened to him that he was not ready to talk about and she was content on giving him all the time he needed. They were all entitled to their own past and no one had the right to demand it from them.

“Anyway, there’s so many things I want to run by you. Bran told me you sometimes watched us, so I don’t know how much you know already.”

She smiled. He didn’t seem to be hesitant about the magic. He was warming up to it fast. That was good. She already had some ideas how to help him lure his own powers to the surface.

“Not much. Explain anyway.”

They sat down besides the table and from his satchel, he pulled out a crude drawing of the North. It was a battle plan. Notes about it, to be more precise. She let him talk, watched the fire burn behind his eyes as he explained his ideas.

“I was worried about us getting stuck in Winterfell. Of him starving us out. So we chose multiple castles for a line of retreat. Five so far, all of them defendable. Closer and closer to south. I sent out men to prepare those castles the same as they did with Winterfell. To have armories and food storages at the ready, the field around them prepared for siege with trenches and tree trunks. Missandei sent a raven to Lord Tyrion to search for a maester that could produce wildfire. I hope its okay that I promised him that we’ll provide everything he’ll need for the substance.”

“Of course. The coffers of Valyria are at our disposal. In this war, my money is yours. Use it as you wish.” She lowered her voice. “It’s also yours since you are my nephew. Should you decide to claim your name, we shall distribute it and you can use your part as you want.”

He looked so touched by this, his next words came out as a whisper.

“Thank you, Dany.”

She froze at the name. When was the last time someone had called her that? Her brother, no doubt. It was an unpleasant memory. But the way Jon said it made her ever warmer inside. Made her feel wanted and loved. She was beaming at him before she noticed what she was doing.

“Family.” And she clasped his fingers.

“Family.” He agreed, giving a squeeze.

It was an unfamiliar territory for both of them, yet she saw in his eyes that he wanted this. Wanted her to be his aunt. It was one of the greatest feelings to experience.

“So wildfire. Go on.”

“Aye. Once we have that, we’ll set them up not around the castles first, but on the road. There are a few narrow valleys on the way south where we can plant them and after everyone retreated, we could light it up and create a ravine that would slow them down.”

If she were a little girl, she would’ve clapped. Brilliant. Of course it wasn’t fool proof, but this was so much more than they could already hope for. Seeing the excitement on her face, he carried on with an even bigger enthusiasm.

“We’ll bring some between the Wall and Winterfell as well in case the Wall doesn’t hold enough to let the survivors retreat.”

“We can also use my children-“

The door swung open and Arya Stark marched in, throwing herself into her brother’s arms, catching him off guard. He let out a soft ‘oof’ as he stumbled back a few steps, but returned the embrace just as fiercely. Even before she let him go, she was already retelling everything that’s happened.

“I was flying atop a dragon! Alone! Daenerys says Rhaegal likes me enough to take me on as a passenger any time. He is the most magnificent creature I’ve seen since Nymeria! He’s so fast Jon, you wouldn’t believe it! And Daenerys and I were training together with the Dothraki and the Night’s Watch! You must join us! And you wouldn’t guess whom I’ve spotted-“

Up until this point, she was speaking rapidly and gesticulating wildly with a huge smile on her face. Daenerys loved this side of her. She adored how the girl could switch between a serious assassin and a young girl, who enjoyed sweet food and flowers and was willing to dance with Daenerys to Daario’s flute to lighten the mood.

She was beaming like the sun. Then she spotted the dragon egg in the fire and her voice dried up.

“Oh, wow!” It was a soft, awed whisper that left her lips.

Jon shot an alarmed glance at Daenerys, seemingly not knowing what to do, if he should be honest. But Dany knew he should. Arya was one of the most accepting person she had met in Westeros. There was no reason to hide from her.

“You have dragon eggs?” Arya asked, looking at her with sparks in her eyes.

“I have two. I’ve taken three from Valyria.”

The girl deflated a little.

“What happened to the third one?”

“Nothing.” Jon said, with a deep breath. “It’s fine. It’s this one.” Another, even deeper breath. “Arya. This one is mine. I’m… Daenerys is my aunt. My father was Rhaegar Targaryen and my mother was Lyanna Stark.”

A myriad of emotions flashed through the girl’s eyes.

“You’ll have a little dragon?”

Jon snorted, amused despite the atmosphere.

“Of course that’s what you focus on.”

“What else is to focus on? You grew up with me, as my brother. My favorite brother. What does it matter if you are my cousin by blood? You are still my brother, no matter who is your father or mother.”

They hugged again and Daenerys decided to give them some privacy. She slowly inched towards the door and then silently closed it behind herself. Outside she found the Lord Commander approaching.

“I saw her storm into the room. Sibling reunion?”

“Obviously.” They shared a smile.

“Some of the lords and commanders wish to speak with you, Your Grace. I agreed to come and let you know. They are waiting for you in the dinner hall.”

“Thank you, Lord Commander. I shall be on my way then. Could you arrange someone to make sure they have some privacy?”

He nodded and called out to two men in the courtyard. Meanwhile Daenerys headed for the hall. She found them all at the high table, standing around a similarly crude map about the Wall. It was the same she used with the Lord Commader and the Dothraki to determine who would go to which castle. They all rose to their feet as she entered and bowed their heads. A chorus of ‘Your Grace’ came from them, no reluctance or resentment. Most of them even smiled at her.

It was a nice change.

“My Lords and Commanders. I hope your journey here went with ease? No snowstorms?”

“One or two, Your Grace, but it did not slow us down.”

“I’m glad to hear that. King Jon had already told me about the modification of our battle plans. I was hoping to gain your insight and his here as well before the soldiers set out for the castles.”

“We just went over the information, Your Grace. I must say, it’s a pity that so many of the castles are in this bad of a condition.” One of the lords said in a particular tone that might’ve carried some shame in it.

“The Watch has been neglected, no doubt. Thousands of years is a long time. Enough to forget what it was originally established for. Our ancestors thought the enemy defeated and we had no reason to think otherwise until they have come knocking. It is a regrettable situation, yet it was inevitable. Let us work with what we have. Commander Daario and I came up with these ideas after scouting the castles, but I would welcome any insight.”

It almost baffled her, how easily they sank into rhythm around her. Not even a sign of contempt from any. They addressed her and listened to her as if she was their own Queen and not an allied monarch. That is one burden less. During the end of times, there is no time for inside squabbling. She allowed them more than one inch, now it was their time give and they delivered.

“Your insights has been very useful, My Lords and Commanders. Your forces will rest for a few days before they set out to their designed fortresses. I suggest you take a rest as well. You can find food in the kitchens to your right and the firewood is in the shed besides the armory. Ask anyone if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.”

“Just doing my duty like the rest of us. Now you’ll have to excuse me, I shall go and meet the soldiers you’ve brought as well, make sure they have everything they need.”

“By your leave, Your Grace.”

Once that meeting has been concluded, she went to see the soldiers. On the way he asked two watchmen who just finished training to check up on the lords of they had found everything, since there were no servants in Castle Black.

The second army was not as large, but more colorful. A hundred northerners who knew the terrain and had invaluable knowledge of fighting in winter. Nine hundred of the Golden Company. Shana Hawkeye, the Commander of the archers came here in person to measure up the terrain. She brought mostly archers. More for the Wall and the gates, in case the dead manage to break in. And of course, a thousand of the Free Folk. No matter how few remained of them, these people were ready to fight tooth and nail anything that might cross them.

“The Ice-kissed Fire Queen!” Tormund bellowed as soon as he set his eyes on her.

“Tormund. It’s good to see you in high spirits.”

“I have every reason to be happy, Dragon Queen. These soldiers the King Crow and you brought here will fuck those fuckers in the ass, and you dragons will burn the rest. We don’t have to flee anymore. We can fight for our home.”

Their home. Everyone was fighting for that. Their lives. There were no favors in the War of the Dawn. No debts to be paid after. This is their war. The duty of the strong and able to fight to protect those who can’t defend themselves. Not for the first time, Daenerys felt a little overwhelmed by this. Leading the greatest army man has ever seen was one thing, but leading the War to protect the human race was an incomprehensible burden.

She was so glad Jon was right there with her.

“Where is the King Crow anyway? I thought he’d be stuck to your side, after talking about you all the way here.”

She laughed, touched by Jon’s love and Tormund’s teasing.

“With her sister. They have some things to catch up on. Do you have everything you need? Do you need more food? More wood or tents or furs?”

“We have everything, Dragon Queen.”

“Good. Still, if anything comes up, don’t hesitate to ask me or Jon or the Lord Commander. Anyone in Castle Black, really.”

“Will do. We Free Folk are not shy people.”

“That’s your best quality.”

He let out another howling laughter and after that they said goodbye. Daenerys returned to her room in the fortress, a little exhausted from suddenly all eyes turning to her to smooth things out. She locked the door and tended to her dragon eggs for a while, polishing them and caressed them with blazing fingers.

She fell into the vision like this, sitting beside the fireplace in her armor and crown. A heartbeat after she opened her eyes, she drew her sword, ready to fight. She was standing on a small island, in the middle of a frozen lake. Around her an army of corpses were standing on the shore, blocking out any chance for escape.

She felt _Him_ watch her.

How did he manage to pull her here? During her stay she felt him tug at her mind multiple times, but the combined strength of her own magic, the Fire Eye and the Wall kept his hooks off of her. So how?

“Daenerys? What’s going on?”

Her head snapped to the side and her blood roared. Jon.

“What are you doing here?” She grabbed his arm, putting herself between her nephew and the place where she felt the enemy leader stand. “How did you get here?”

“I don’t know? I just tried to rest my eyes a bit and then I remember running through woods and after a harsh yank I was… here.”

It took a few seconds for her mind to put together what had happened. He fell asleep. Not just asleep, but warg sleep. The Raven warned her in one of their shared visions that Jon and Arya sometimes find themselves in their wolves, their powers not completely controlled yet. Ghost must’ve been on this side of the Wall, in the woods. He entered his mind and the Night King snatched the chance.

But then how did _she_ get here?

“I’ve linked your minds.” The Raven said, standing behind them.

Jon turned around, flabbergasted by his brother’s presence who was no longer bound to a chair.

“Bran? You’re standing!”

Daenerys had other things to address.

“Wouldn’t it have been easier to banish him from the warg dream?”

“I was too slow. I only sensed him when the link was already complete. I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t apologize. I’m glad you took me here as well. Can you take him back?”

“Not until the link is broken.”

“Would the two of you explain what the seven hells is going on?”

She turned back towards the dead army while the Raven explained to her brother what happened. And what is happening now. They were not here in body, only in spirit. In magic. But they were just as vulnerable, although in a different kind of way.

She felt the ice magic flare up and behind her, Jon tensed like a string.

“Get down!”

All three of them managed to evade the spear. Daenerys only stepped around it while Jon tacked her brother to the ground. She felt her magic boil at the attack and respond in kind, ready to last out. But protection was more important. Twirling _Remembrance _in her grip, she sank blazing blade into the frozen soil. Around the island a ring of fire rose up almost twenty feet high.

“This won’t be enough. We cannot leave until they are linked.”

As if on cue, her nephew gasped and swayed on his feet. Daenerys ran to him with a cry. She was wrong. Jon was hit with the spear, she felt the Other’s magic sink into him. To crawl deep and begin to infect him from the inside out. He was like ice when she touched him, his magic burning hers. Still, she cradled him in her arms and gently patted his cheek. He was unconscious. Looking almost… almost…

“Jon? Come on, Jon. This is not his power alone. You have everything you need to push against him. You are the Son of Ice and Fire. Use them! Push him out!”

For a good minute, it seemed like her voice did not reach him in his magic induced sleep.

“No, no, no. Nephew, open your eyes. I can’t lose you! Please, Jon!”

Then she felt the burning sensation slowly give way to tingling. She thought she had imagined it at first, her panic making her feel things that were not there. But then the sensation grew and now she was sure that he was fighting back.

Not only fighting, but _winning_.

Magic erupted from his form like a geyser and she had to let him go. Both the Raven and her retreated from him, his duality hurting them. Daenerys’s pure fire magic was hurt by his ice part and the Raven’s ice was hurt by his fire. He stood up, eyes blazing just like hers did when she used her power, glowing blue with a molten fire ring around his pupil.

“The Prince that was Promised.” She whispered, awed.

He woke up on his own. He fought back and broke the barrier to his power by himself. He did not need R’Hllor’s blessing to wake up. The fire God cannot use him, because Jon was the same as him before the ascension. This was his Skyfall. The hero rising to meet the enemy.

His power was so raw, she had to shield her eyes after a while. Even looking at him hurt. He was freezing and warm at the same time, both burns licking at her skin. ‘_He needs a channel_.’ She realized. Needs his own Fire Eye. Something…

She shot a glance at the still blazing _Remembrance_, as if the blade was calling out to her.

A blade of heated steal filled with fire magic. Her magic. Her fire.

_Lightbringer._

She did not manage to stand up under the pressure of his power. Although he as standing, he seemed to be in some kind of trance. The fire ring around them was blown away just as the ice melted into water on the surface of the lake. The wights retreated screaming. She looked up and saw the White Walkers clutch at their heads, screaming. In pain. He was hurting them by his mere presence. Even the Night King gripped his head, though he was silent.

But she felt Jon’s pain as well.

_He’ll burn himself out if I don’t hurry!_

She pulled out the sword from the ground and filled it with more magic. And more and more and poured everything she could muster into it. All of her essence was pushed into the weapon that will bring the Dawn. She did not lose her power though. The sword became a part of _her._ Her extension. Her magic. Her life.

“_Rise, My Prince.”_ she whispered in Valyrian, kissing the blade. _“Bring us the Dawn.”_

The sword erupted into a column of fire.

She heard a furious roar somewhere behind her from where the Night King was standing, but she paid it no mind. She took a few swaying steps towards him, as if pushing against a raging storm. He was so close, yet seemed so far away. Just a little more, just a step.

She reached out with her free hand towards his sword hand and with a last struggle, she placed the blade into his grip. His fingers closed around it on instinct.

Azor Ahai let out a stunned gasp. His first breath in this world. The storm around him vanished and Daenerys lost her footing. Suddenly having nothing to push against, she fell against his chest. With his free hand, he held her up. Their eyes met and she saw the recognition flash in them.

“Lightbringer.”

“Azor Ahai.”

A flare of ice magic was followed by another spear full of fury and hatred. This one was meant for her. No longer having her sword, she couldn’t block it. So she tried to step away and pull Jon with along. But the newly awoken Prince had other ideas. _Lightbringer_ flashed in his hand, the sword of pure fire drew an arc in the air and met the spear head on. The ice shattered into a million pieces.

“Don’t.” He hissed, drawing up to his full height. “You dare hurt my family.”

His magic rose again. He let Daenerys go. Held his now free hand up with palm towards the sky. Flames as blue and white as ice sprung to life between his fingers. The spear built itself up in seconds and just as it was done, he pulled his arm back and threw it.

It collided into a White Walker’s chest. The creature had no time to scream before it shattered.

“We should leave.” The Raven said, getting on his feet.

“Why? We could end this right here.”

Daenerys felt the same. Her magic roared to life as well, making both of her hands blaze with yellow flames. She felt her nephew’s wish to end the war with a simple swing of his sword through _Lightbringer _in his hand. It was a great temptation. But the Raven was right. The shock will wear off and they are still three against two hundred thousand, from which almost a hundred were similar magic casters like them, if only a little slower. The Night King was Jon’s counterpart but he had years to train and Azor Ahai wasn’t even an hour old.

“He is right, Jon.” She said, extinguishing her flames and taking his arm. “We’ll have a chance later, when we are not in as much risk. If even one spear hits your brother, all is lost.”

Across the lake, every one of the White Walkers had spears in their hand now, ready to throw.

Jon made a face of displeasure and disagreement. Then their eyes met. Their gazed locked.

“Fine.”

The Raven pulled them back just as the spears hit the spot where they were standing.

***

_It was not her room where she opened her eyes. It took her a few second to recognize the treasuries of Valyria. She never managed to come this far in apparition. She was too deep in the North for that. But now that she was here, she was quick to look around. R’Hllor wasted magic to pull her mind here, so this must be important._

_She spotted it a second later._

_An armor stood on a dais to her right. She recognized it immediately since she was wearing her own right now. A Dragon Rider Armor. The armor of sorcerers and warriors that ruled over Essos for hundreds of years. This was similar to her own, though lacked the crown. Next to the armor on a high and round table seemingly made out of dragon glass was something sphere shaped covered by rich velvet fabric. _

_She did not know what it was from shape, but felt that this was important. Just like her crown._

_“It’s up to you two now. Bring the Dawn.”_

R’Hllor’s voice was strained, faint as he said this. Then the vision was over and she woke up gasping. After a few deep breaths, she heard them. She could never mistake the sound. Chirping. The chatter of young ones. Young dragons. They were clinging to her armor, small like the three was when they were born.

They _hatched._

Barely containing her joy, she wiped a tear from her eyes.

“Hello, little ones. I am your mother.”

One of them was violet with magenta eyes, membranes and markings. The other was ruby red with gold eyes and gold markings. She caressed their small bodies, giving them heat from her own body.

“I shall name you Rhaellion, for my sweet mother who was beloved by everyone.” She kissed the snout of the violet dragon. “And you will be called Rhaegon, for my lost son who was meant to be the greatest Khal that has ever lived.” He preened as she pushed her face against his. “I’m so sorry you were born here in the cold, loves. But we’ll make do. You’ll be big as your brothers in no time.”

Brothers. Brother.

_Jon and the silver egg._

She cradled the two dragons close and ran from the room to search for her nephew. He was in the Commander’s solar, where she left him with his sister. Now he was kneeling before the fireplace, in his arms a third little dragon, with white scales and glittering silver markings. Their gazes locked for the third time this day and she saw unparalleled joy and determination in his eyes.

“Will you introduce me?” He asked with glee, eyes landing on the two little ones in her arms.

“The violet one is Rhaellion and the red one is Rhaegon. And who is he?”

“Dawn.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. That was a dense ride. I know I'm late. I'm sorry. Fact is, I finally got into the college I wanted after two years, so now I'd like to stay in college. That means I have to study. A lot. That means less chapters and denser story.  
Sorry ><


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